


Vie

by sabotage



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/F, Polyamory, Renegade Commander Shepard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 21:49:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8177269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabotage/pseuds/sabotage
Summary: Shepard, Liara and Traynor vie for each others affections.





	1. The Players

A/N: Another repost from my The Subverter account on fanfiction.net. I admit, this is one of my favorites.

* * *

Private Campbell and Private Westmoreland are scrutinizing her. Traynor thinks they're bored, having little more to do than guard the entrance to the War Room.

"You've been spending a great deal of time primping yourself since Commander Shepard came aboard," Private Campbell tells her. Traynor pauses in the middle of uncapping the lipgloss, her eyes flicking to them shortly.

"I think she's dressing up for Dr. T'soni," Private Westmoreland says, crossing her arms and leaning into the doorway of the women's restroom. "Some of us need the mirror too, Traynor."

"You're both ridiculous," she tells them. Her cheeks heat despite her rejection of their declaration. She is  _not_ putting lipgloss on because of Commander Shepard or Liara T'Soni. Not at all. She's a yeoman. She's expected to look presentable. Furthermore, she's new onboard the Normandy. It's best to make a good impression. Yes. That's all. No matter if she didn't take  _as_ much time prior to their arrival.

"The Commander is a hard ass," Westmoreland volunteers. "I overheard her talking to one of those turian councilors on the vidcomm. I don't know if he had a bony ass left after she was done with him."

"She's just doing her job," Traynor says. What is her hair doing? She peers into the mirror, cocking her head, running her fingers through it, trying to get it to lay down flat. What are the chances that either woman will know she exists? "You can't get anything done by being a pushover."

"I hear Dr. T'soni and the Commander used to be an item," Campbell says. "Back when they used to be on the first Normandy.  _Before_  it got blown to hell." She gives Westmoreland a look before she can pipe up with a question.

"Who said that?" Traynor asks. Is it true? Dr. T'Soni is reserved and keeps to herself. Traynor has thought about beginning a conversation with her but has not known where to begin.

"Ooh, jealous?" Westmoreland nudges Campbell, who grins.

Traynor frowns. They're obnoxious. She reminds herself that she's there to do a job, not get a new girlfriend. But what would the harm be if she could kill two birds with one stone? One girlfriend, not the two. Oh, three birds with one stone. No, just one.

_Get a hold of your hormones, Samantha. You're not a teenage girl. In case you've forgotten, the Reapers are here._

There is that; the whole reason she's stuck on the Normandy to begin with. She takes a breath and smoothes out the lines of her Alliance uniform. It's important to look professional. "You two continue to gossip. I've got a job to do. Apparently the Alliance doesn't just let you get away with being pretty." She gives herself one more lookover and is out the door, happy to leave the two gossiping soldiers behind her.

She does  _not_ have a crush on Dr. T'soni or Commander Shepard. Anyway, so what if she does? She can look. Just because she may be dead soon doesn't mean she's dead yet.

* * *

The yeoman has a nice ass.

Shepard remembers her more by her face than by any name. EDI's reminded Shepard several times of the yeoman's name, her voice taking on a bit of irritation by the sixth time. Shepard knows she'll get it eventually.

Shepard pulls the helmet from her head and runs her fingers through her damp hair. Her face gleams with sweat from the last furious battle she was in. She wipes at her forehead with the back of her hand and turns in Traynor's direction. The yeoman quickly looks away. Shepard smiles inwardly.

She browses her messages and finds one from EDI telling her about some of the modifications Specialist Samantha Traynor made when retrofitting the Normandy-SR2. Ah. This time Shepard smiles outwardly and goes to the yeoman. Traynor's head shifts slightly, following her movements. She focuses on her monitor but her fingers, over the keys, don't move.

"Specialist Traynor. Tell me about what you do here."

Traynor takes one step back from the terminal. The solitary step brings her too close to Shepard but Shepard doesn't budge. Traynor, no doubt following her lead, makes no attempt to create distance.

The yeoman tells her about what she does. She talks more quickly than she should and though she meets Shepard's eyes while she speaks, they cannot stay on hers, dropping to the side from time to time. "I know I'm not out in the field with you, Commander but I hope to contribute in my own way to the mission."

"I'm sure you will." Truthfully Shepard has paid more attention to the light in her eyes and the shape of her lips, the richness of her voice, than anything she's said. Traynor fills out the Alliance uniform nicely. "So, what do you do for fun?"

"Fun?" She smiles. "Nothing someone like you would find interesting. But…since you've asked, I love games."

Shepard smirks. So does she. "What kind of games?"

"Mostly strategy games. Chess! Ma'am. And… I have a few old board games… collector's pieces, really. There's one called 'Monopoly' where your goal is to purchase as much property as possible."

"Huh." Shepard crosses her arms. "That's what you do for fun? Sounds boring." Traynor laughs, noticeably embarrassed. She touches the back of her neck and looks at Shepard without looking at her. Shepard thinks that Traynor's gaze is on her shoulder or her neck. "If that's all the fun a pretty girl like you can think of someone seriously needs to have their ass kicked."

Traynor waffles in place. "It's not nice to make fun of others hobbies, Commander."

"It's not nice to kick peoples asses, but someone has to do it." Shepard catches a hint of a smile on Traynor's lips. The woman protests too much. Despite what she may think of her attitude, Shepard thinks she's intrigued. "Next time we go to the Citadel, you owe me a dance."

"I owe you a dance?" Traynor arches her eyebrow and crosses her arms, the beginnings of a delicious smirk on her lips. "And what exactly have I done to incur this debt?"

"The galaxy isn't going to save itself, Traynor. I think I'm owed a little payback."

"Are you now?"

"I haven't heard a 'no' in all of this."

Traynor laughs as if the situation were ridiculous. "I suppose I can't disobey an order from my commanding officer." She turns back to the computer, "You'll have to take a shower first. If I can make time, maybe I'll see you on the Purgatory dance floor."

"I'm counting on it," Shepard walks to the elevator and jabs the button. When it opens she steps inside and waits. As expected, Traynor turns around to look at her as the doors are sliding shut. Shepard smirks at her, victorious.

* * *

She no longer drowns in information; the trick is knowing how to navigate the riptides. Liara believes she has been successful. She stands before the sea of monitors; information pours in constantly like a broken dam. Though she has learned to keep afloat and learn the patterns to follow, the task is still difficult.

"Info drone," Glyph, she says the name inwardly like a curse, "continue to monitor all communication from Thessia and Eden Prime. I'll want everything from Earth as well." She's told him once and she likely doesn't need to tell him again. Unlike organic species, AIs are not prone to forgetting and mistakes.

The live feeds on the monitors bounce a colorful array of lights over her. The room is dark and cold. She exits.

It's strange to be on the Normandy again. The last time she stayed onboard she was a Prothean archaeologist, awkward and shy. It's hard to believe that she's become even more reclusive since then. Her new role as Shadow Broker doesn't allow much time for interaction with anything more than data. She doesn't have time for loneliness.

Her intent is to get a glass of water from the mess hall but her steps slow when she sees a faint light from the mess hall table. She stops and examines further. Samantha Traynor is seated with a with a holoboard chess set in front of her. She has a data pad in front of her, brow burrowed quizzically as her fingers glide over the pad. A pawn moves forward. When she notices Liara watching, she knocks over the glass of water sitting next to her.

Liara glances at the glass of water and moves it effortlessly back into place without lifting a hand. Liara pauses, smiles and sits opposite of her.

"Nice trick," Traynor says. "I'd nearly forgotten you're something of a biotic powerhouse. Bold enough to stop Saren and prevent the follies of my clumsiness."

She hasn't met many of the crew and while she knows a good deal about them, she's unsure how much they know about her. "What do you know about me?"

"Only a little. I've read some of your papers on the Protheans. People say you're an expert in the field." She leans forward, hand raised, poised to tell a secret. Liara smiles, happy to play along. "I've also heard you're the Shadow Broker."

Liara doesn't pull back; she keeps her voice quiet. "Really? Who told you that?" It isn't exactly a secret aboard the Normandy, but she suspects a big-mouthed AI to be responsible for any leaks. She reminds herself not to share anything with EDI.

"No one officially. But your room draws a considerable amount of the Normandy's power resources, considering the space. I'm no Shadow Broker but I'm a bit of a whiz with comm channels and I closely monitor data flow. I've made a few assumptions."

"I see." Liara smiles faintly and leans back into her seat, studying the chessboard in front of them. "I didn't think the Alliance placed much stock in brain power."

"Are you saying I'm right?"

"I'm saying you're more than a pretty face." She reaches out and grabs the data pad from Traynor, noticing more cognitively than physically that their fingers have brushed. "You're playing against a VI." She looks up at Traynor. "How many moves will it take for you to win?"

"It depends on how long I feel like teasing it out. What's the fun in victory if there's no chase?" Traynor says. Liara studies the diagram of the chessboard on the datapad and then at the holographic representation on the table. Traynor straightens where she sits. "Do you play?"

"I'm no grandmaster like you." She ducks her chin briefly. "You must have difficulty encountering a real challenge. If I were your opponent, I could take your queen." She looks at the board. "It would take two moves. Three, if you were particularly clever."

Traynor narrows her eyes on the board, crossing her arms, bringing a thumb to her lower lip thoughtfully. "But then it'd be endgame. Before you know it, checkmate; I'd have your king."

"The king doesn't matter." Liara hands the datapad back to Traynor.

"It does if you're playing chess," she points out.

"Maybe it's the game that's irrelevant." Who has time for chess in times like these? All the strategy in the world doesn't matter with a force like the Reapers. "I'm… usually busy but you seem bored."

"I'm caught. I couldn't sleep and I didn't want to keep the others in the barracks up."

"We both keep irregular schedules, then. You've got a talent for decrypting and I could always use an extra pair of hands. Maybe we can help each other out." She sets a hand down gently beside Traynor's. She smiles sardonically. "Have I ever given you a tour of my office?"

"You're being coy, Dr. T'soni. You and I both know that you've never given me a tour of your room." Traynor stands and shuts the chess game off. "I'm…pretty sure both of us would remember that."

"Would we?" Liara analyzes Traynor. There is no missing the devilish glint in her eye but Liara is unsure if it's there at the idea of seeing the lair of the Shadow Broker or other more intimate reasons. The blush on the woman's cheeks is impossible to miss. How charming. Liara remembers when Shepard could similarly summon flustered feelings of confusion, excitement and lust to the surface. "You're so sure."

"This is our first conversation, Dr. T'soni."

"Is it?" She catches sight of the time. "It is late, however, so…however interested in the tour we may be, I'm afraid it will have to wait." She remembers the initial reason for exiting her office: the drink. She's suddenly parched. She thoughtlessly picks up Traynor's glass of water and downs it in one long drink. She wipes delicately at her lips. "This late night conversation of ours, Samantha… let's make sure it's not the last."

Liara doesn't want to get trapped in more conversation and returns to her room moments later. She still has work to do. She works for several more hours still until she can scarcely keep her eyes open. It takes all her energy to strip free of her clothing and drop onto the bed.

She doesn't know who thought to procure the piece of furniture. The extravagance of it is more in the style of Cerberus than the Alliance. Her arms stretch out wide and there is plenty of room to spare.

The bed fits three.


	2. Crush

They're in the UT47A-Kodiak, returning from a mission. James is in the front talking with Cortez. Shepard can't figure out if Vega is an awkward bastard or if he's secretly in love with the pilot and doesn't have the balls to say it. Shepard and James have had their share of flirtations—but anytime she presses the issue he turns tail and runs.

Shepard keeps her fingers tightly wrapped around an overhead handle. Liara is seated only a couple of feet from her, jostling only slightly with the rattling the Kodiak does when they hit a particularly difficult air current. She looks too somber and these days is much too quiet, at least in comparison to the chattier woman that she used to be. Another bump and Shepard abandons standing and the handle. There are plenty of seats available but she drops down beside Liara.

The woman has come a long way from who she was when Shepard first met her. The asari commandos are nothing next to her. Shepard has always liked a bit of ass kicking in her partners and Liara is racking up an impressive body count. These days Liara is indifferent and not so easy to blush but Shepard isn't ready to give up just yet. She hardly remembers who decided it was time for them to end their previous relationship.

"If you knew how to fight the way you do these days you'd never have needed a rescue in Therum," Shepard rests her elbows on her knees, leaning forward. Sweat and a trickle of blood still run down her face from the savage fight they'd just had against Cerberus.

"And maybe you would have never caught up to me. The Shadow Broker has many enemies. I've had to pick up a few tricks."

"I like tricks." As much as treats, even. "Any you're willing to share?"

"You already have too many up your sleeve," Liara says with a degree of amusement and consternation. She's still as Shepard wipes a sliver of blood from her cheek. Despite the hordes of asari commandos Shepard has killed off in her day, it still bothers her to see Liara bleeding. "I hadn't noticed," she pushes Shepard's hand away and touches the cut thoughtfully.

"Don't trust me to give you a little first aid?"

"We both know you're better at putting people in casts and shallow graves than lending first aid."

Shepard smiles in agreement and thinks that Liara is still angry at her for their falling out. Shepard might be hurt or frustrated if she'd ever minded a challenge. "Maybe I only wanted to touch you."

"You're being honest for a change," Liara looks at her, smiling faintly. "That's new." Shepard shrugs and leans back into the seat, looking at her. "It's too late for that now."

"Never say never, Liara." Shepard wouldn't mind having a good time with Liara. They're both busy, they both have more important things to do. There's nothing wrong with adults doing something to relax, not when there's enough respect to go around and they all know exactly what it is. "I'm not known for being a quitter."

"And I'm not known for folding easily."

Shepard laughs. She turns her head to face her. "Really?"

Liara's smile is seductively confident. " _Really."_

Shepard slides closer, their lips near touching. Their eyes lock and hold. Shepard remembers all their heated passion. She can hear James bumbling his way out to them. "We'll see," she tells Liara before getting to her feet and joining Cortez in the cockpit.

* * *

At the time the decision had seemed life or death: the little black dress or the six-thousand credit Cision Pro Mark 4? While her teeth have ached (not literally) for the brush, Traynor is glad to have chosen the much more affordable dress—otherwise, what might she wear to Purgatory? Her Alliance uniform or fatigues won't do.

She explores the Presidium Commons, going from terminal to terminal doing a bit of window-shopping. She is oblivious to the appreciative glances she receives and spends more time than she means to in a game store, examining the various chessboards and other board games in stock. She alternates between being thrifty with the little money she has, or indulging herself—who knows how much time any of them have anymore?

She is woefully undecided when she takes notice of the time and leaves the store in a somewhat dispirited mood. When she remembers that she's to meet Shepard (and some of the other crew members of the Normandy) her spirits lift again. She's walking, enjoying the setting sun with a bounce in her step and a purse in her hand when she sees Liara, lingering near a small rest area. Cars dot the vast expanse of sky in the distance. Liara looks radiant, as usual.

It wouldn't hurt to stop by and say hello… anyway, it'd be rude to walk by and pretend she hasn't seen her. And only a square shows up to a club early. "Dr. T'soni," Traynor calls out. Liara lifts her head to look at her, eyes appraising her with what looks to be a small degree of surprise. "I didn't know you made it out to the presidium. If I had, I would have asked to keep you company."

"You can start now. A little earlier than scheduled." Liara says. She seems to usually have a smile, however small or wry or sad, on her face. Maybe it's in her nature being an asari. As it is, Traynor attempts to recall whether she had a meeting arranged with Liara. A moment later she recalls their tentative promise of more late night conversations. "You clean up nicely, Samantha."

"Thank you," she tries not to sound too elated. "I'm taking advantage. You don't usually have a reason to dress up when you're in the Alliance. Even less so in times like these," she steps beside her and watches the colors of the sky burn vibrantly, night peeking through the horizon. "Some of us are going to Purgatory tonight for drinks and dancing. Why don't you come along?"

"Me, in a place like that?"

"Why not? I'm sure a few of us," all of them, "wouldn't mind seeing Dr. T'soni let her hair down. Erm, in a manner of speaking, of course."

Liara laughs softly. "Perhaps if you were going somewhere else. Purgatory is too loud. I don't really care for that sort of music."

"What sort of music do you care for?"

"I don't know that I'm sure anymore." She frowns. "I imagine you think me strange for saying it. I prefer the quiet. Not as much as I used to. I used to spend a lot of time on Prothean dig sites, weeks on end with only myself and the occasional pirate and varren hunting me. I used to imagine that I knew everything about Prothean civilization that there was to know. How I dreamed of living there. Knowing Javik now I wonder if it was worth devoting so much of my life to the study. So much of what I thought I knew was wrong. The Protheans aren't who I thought they were."

Traynor thinks that the orange and red burning hues of the sky make Liara's skin look even more lovely than usual. "But if not for your studies you wouldn't have discovered the Crucible. You know, that thing that's going to help stop the Reapers."

"Right. Well, I hope so, anyway." she smiles and looks at her. "Thank you. For the perspective." Traynor watches the stars settle into the sky like a mist. It's almost a shame that she's promised to meet the group at Purgatory. "It was not my intention to keep you."

"I can't say I'd mind, Dr. T'soni." Traynor is aghast at how the words spilled out of her mouth. She bites the inside of her lip and grimaces. "I…apologize. Sometimes… I just say these things." She doesn't look at her. "But I don't suppose it comes as a surprise to you that you're attractive. Just saying," she mutters the last, "I think I just made that even worse," she says quieter still.

Liara allows a small smile. "I remember once having a familiar talent for rambling myself." She begins to walk away from the railing and inclines her head for Traynor to follow her, who does so unquestioningly. "I've gotten better about it. But maybe that's only because the majority of my interactions are with Glyph these days. I hope that I was half as charming as you are."

Oh.  _Don't blush, don't blush._  "Don't you get lonely in that dark room by yourself all day?"

"Not really."

Oh. Well then, simple enough. Traynor walks beside Liara. The Presidium has emptied out quite a bit, all the shoppers having dwindled away with the closing of the shops. Traynor's heels click on the Citadel floor and Traynor becomes too conscious of her overdressed state. "Are you sure you won't join us tonight?" she is in no hurry to part from Liara.

"Very sure." She pauses. "Don't worry—I think you'll have more than enough company. Perhaps more than you'd like," she continues to walk, "and if Shepard is there… well. Consider your night done for."

"Care to elaborate on that remark?" she asks with an arched eyebrow. "She did say I owed her a dance," she confesses.

"No doubt you'll end up giving her more than that." She keeps walking and stops only when she realizes that Traynor's footsteps have slowed. Liara waits for her to catch up. Traynor is unsure if she's scowling, only aware that her face is making an expression that it wasn't before. They resume walking again. "Sorry. I don't mean to presume. But I know Shepard."

"Were you two…?"

"Yes. But not anymore. Shepard is nothing if not charismatic and tenacious. If you see her tonight… you'll have your hands full. And… if she has her way—so will she."

Liara says the words without batting an eye. Are all asari so wonderfully confident and unflappable? Traynor thinks that if she ever said a thing like that to a relative stranger she'd melt into a puddle of goo. Traynor doesn't know what to say.

Eventually they make their way to the elevators. Only a hint of color remains in the sky. Both women step into the transit elevator. The doors close, it's only the two of them. The ride to Purgatory will take several minutes.

"Are you going to the docking bay?" Traynor asks, certain that she's changing the subject and only hoping that she isn't blushing as furiously as she was minutes ago. Liara nods and Traynor has no immediate follow up. She watches Liara's profile and once again finds herself marveling at how elegant and attractive she is. "I hope… that you have a good night, then. When we separate," she clarifies.  _Shoot me now._ She's not usually this awkward, is she? She thinks to explain to Liara that she only gets extraordinarily nervous around beautiful women but is grateful to bite her tongue to stop herself from further embarrassment.

The sound of the bass is audible moments before the elevator reaches its destination. Liara's mildly sardonic smile is a testament to how much Traynor would be wasting her time in asking her yet again to join them. The doors part. Traynor spots the sign for Purgatory in the distance, as well as clumps of people talking to one another. She turns to Liara whose smile shifts into teasing, her eyebrows arching. "You've got the whole night ahead of you," she says, "just think of all the trouble you could get into."

"Not too much. I'm in the Alliance. They don't take too kindly to rabble rousers."

"Unless they're Commander Shepard," Liara says, rolling her eyes. Traynor laughs, wondering how much of it is true. It would certainly fit with what she's seen of the Commander who doesn't look or act as if she's ever read a rulebook on proper command etiquette in her life. "I'd ask that you not do anything I wouldn't do… but I'm not sure if that'd get you into more or less trouble."

"Don't worry. I'm a good girl, Dr. T'soni." Unless she's lost a chess game and she's pissed.

"Liara," she corrects her. "And what's the fun in being a good girl? Less trouble, though. Admittedly, I've always had a hard time avoiding trouble altogether, even when I was a good girl." Traynor is staring at her when the elevator doors close behind her, the both of them still in the elevator. Liara chuckles softly. "Trying to follow me back to the Normandy?" Traynor is once again at a loss for words when Liara reaches past her, face close to hers, body near pressing her to the wall, and pushes the elevator button. "I'd pretend not to notice. Not until we were in private, anyway. Come by sometime. We can… analyze data." The doors slide open again. Traynor is pleased and disappointed with herself for not kissing Liara then and there.

It is with great reluctance and a foggy memory that she steps out of the elevator and bids Liara goodnight.

* * *

It takes a minute for her eyes to adjust to the darkness of Purgatory, cut to shards by the dancing, knifing lights. Everywhere people dance and shout and casually touch. The bass is so loud that Traynor feels it reverberating her heart. She looks for the others but can't find them among the clusters of people.

The purse is snatched from her hand, replaced by a drink before she even has the opportunity to shout at whatever thief has made the switch. A hand on her hip swivels her and in the darkness she sees an emphasis of full lips and the flashing of bright eyes. "Commander," Traynor says, unsure if it's the music that has jump started her heart or Commander Shepard's appearance and tactile hand.

"You came." She chucks Traynor's purse at James. "Hold on to that, will you?" she tells him. Traynor looks at him, horrified but she doesn't have time to dwell on it. Shepard's pulled her to the dance floor. Around them people jump and swing their arms around in excitement. Despite the quick pulse of the music, Shepard's movements are slow, her hands firmly situated on Traynor's hips.

Traynor doesn't know what to do with the drink. She senses her nerves are on the edge of frying. She downs the colorful drink that Shepard handed her previously. Shepard takes the empty glass from her and passes it to an anonymous passerby, giving them a deadly, warning look when they look like they're ready to protest.

"You're very rude, Commander." Traynor has never felt quite so nervous and excited despite the fact. If only emotions and logic worked more harmoniously! Trouble could be avoided…

Shepard smiles and pulls her closer. "We're going to have to be close if we want to hear each other here. Unless… you're not interested in talking?" Traynor lowers her hands to Shepard's to move them. "You look stunning," Shepard breathes in her ear. Traynor's hands stall. "Come on, what's the use in having hips if you aren't going to use them?" It takes Shepard's words for Traynor to realize that she hasn't been dancing. Traynor had heard rumors that Shepard can't dance. But maybe this isn't dancing, what they're doing verges on something else. "That's more like it."

"You're too close, Commander."

"So pull away."

Traynor lifts a hand, presses it to Shepard's chest. Shepard's fingers graze along the bottom of her dress, inching the material upward. Not enough for anyone else to notice but enough to make Traynor feverish and dizzy. She wonders if it's her imagination that makes Shepard's eyes take a glint of crimson glow in the darkness. Or it's possibly the lights. She lifts a hand to Shepard's face, touching along her scarred cheeks with slivers of red beneath. "How'd you get these?"

"Battle scars." Shepard presses against the hand Traynor has lifted, erasing any of the distance she'd created. "Anyone ever tell you I'm part Krogan?"

"You've all the tact of Wrex, from what I've seen," Traynor teases. Shepard laughs and dips her face in Traynor's neck. "What—" the words are cut off when she feels Shepard's hot lips place a kiss on her neck. She closes her eyes and releases a soft, shaking breath. Shepard continues, meeting the curve of her jaw, grazing her lips along her cheek but stopping short of her mouth. Shepard cups her face, thumb tugging gently at Traynor's lower lip. Their eyes meet.

"Tact's a waste of time. So what's it going to be, Specialist?"

Traynor has forgotten the question but is well aware that it was only just asked. Commander Shepard may be a brute but Traynor finds herself so overwhelmed with desire that she's shaky on her feet. It's been a long time since she's gone to bed with anyone, much less flirted. She doesn't know what it is that she means to answer. She doesn't have the opportunity. A shouting in the distance and the smashing of glass gets Shepard's attention.

Traynor turns her head in time to see a group of Alliance soldiers starting to brawl with some turian c-sec officers. "Gimme a break," Shepard mutters, irritably. Without a backward glance or word she's gone to intervene.

Traynor watches her delve into the group of fighting men, taking a few swings to both sides of the groups, her features twisted in indignation and anger. Minutes later, Traynor still can't hear her but she's pointing fingers, shoving men in the chest. Eventually, the two groups grudgingly shake hands and disperse, some going off jointly to have drinks. Shepard remains, arms crossed, talking to the few that remain.

She remembers that James still has her purse. She seeks him out by the bar, makes her apologies, buys him a drink in penance and reclaims her accessory. Perhaps it's time to call in for the night. Shepard is otherwise occupied and had too quickly left Traynor hot and bothered. But… would it be so bad to flirt with the Commander?  _I'm sure the Commander is only interested in flirting…_ Right. And she alone can stop the Reapers. Traynor rolls her eyes inwardly and is reaching the exit to Purgatory when Shepard takes her arm.

"Running off without so much as a goodbye," Shepard tsks, her arms crossing again lightly, "and people think I'm rude."

"I apologize, Commander. I thought you were still busy peacefully solving the conflict between that group of men." Her lips lift at the corners in gentle mocking, "wasn't there a diplomatic way to resolve the matter?"

"I let my fists handle diplomacy."

Traynor laughs. "Are you serious? I once saw a crappy VI of you—back when you were supposedly dead. It said these very ridiculous things, much reminiscent of a Chuck Norris gag they had on Earth centuries ago." Shepard's cocked eyebrow reveals the name has no meaning to her. "Anyway, I guess it wasn't so far off after all."

"So you see your commanding officer in a fight and your solution is to…run away?"

"I have to relax sometime, Commander. Unlike you, I don't get off on fighting." She's seen so little of fighting that at times it makes her feel like a coward, sitting in the comfort of the Normandy, at 'war'. Her efforts are clean and bloodless. She hasn't earned a war scratch yet.

"Fighting's not the only way I like to get off." Shepard takes Traynor's elbow and pulls her closer. "Come on, I just solved a dispute between a bunch of humans and turians. I should get some kind of reward."

"My commendation on a job well done is not satisfactory, then? You're greedy."

Shepard's eyes dance now, her smile wider. She's enjoying herself. "Only when I see something that I like."

"I've heard you're a bit of a player. And that part about you being charming… does appear to have some merit." Too much merit. "But, I have some work to do and I have a feeling that if I spent even a moment more with you… I'd be up all night."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

At least her voice is convincing. Traynor gives herself a small point. "Goodnight, Commander." She cocks a smile, saluting before moving on her way. She shouldn't sleep with the Commander of the Normandy! Should she? She can at least flirt. There's nothing wrong with flirting. In fact, she'd been flirting with Liara T'Soni earlier hadn't she?

She blushes thinking of her evening.

Maybe Private Campbell and Westmoreland were right to tease her. It appears she does have a crush. Two of them.


	3. Sucker Punch

Shepard strolls in like the room is hers. Liara takes an inward breath, eyes flicking over to the commander but not abandoning the terminal she works at. After several minutes, Shepard moves away from the terminal beside Glyph to stand beside her, looking through the Shadow Broker's network. "Anything interesting?" Shepard asks, tapping, tapping on the keyboard, bored. "There's this jackass CO I used to have. Maybe you could snoop in his mail and see what he's up to."

"Really, Shepard? I have far more important matters to dedicate my resources to."

"Right." She draws the word out, steps back, hands in the air as if Liara is the unreasonable one and Shepard the poor peon, surrendering to her tyranny. "The Reapers." Shepard's tone is remarkably casual. The woman has always been irreverent but more so than ever lately. She doesn't leave as she usually does.

Liara ignores her for some minutes, scanning the data. She'll speak with Samantha later and look into her method of sorting data by origin and other criteria. If it shaves even a few minutes away from the task at hand she would be grateful. Shepard is in the corner, at the other terminal, the one closer to the bed, picking up a model ship of the Ascension. She lifts it and glides it through the air much like a child would before knotting her forehead and setting it down. This is obnoxious, even for Shepard. Liara reluctantly leaves her work. She cocks her head at the commander and studies her.

Shepard touches her face absently, where the skin is dug in as if someone took a knife to her. Cerberus' implants are showing. Had it been wrong of her to take Shepard's body to them? No matter how many times she asks herself the question, she always comes to the same conclusion: no. Anyway, if Shepard were better behaved, perhaps she wouldn't be falling apart. Liara has given some thought to the physiology of the matter, not simply accepting Chakwas' theory on good or bad behavior. Liara thinks it's all a clever trick to get Shepard to be more diplomatic. She approves—but no matter, Shepard hasn't followed Chakwas' orders (or advice) but when does Shepard ever?

"Like the view?" Shepard asks lightly, finally noticing Liara.

"Not particularly." Liara crosses her arms gently, uncrossing them just as easily and taking a few tentative steps toward her. "You should start taking care of yourself. Better care of yourself." Shepard looks at her, eyes tinged with red. Sometimes Liara thinks it's all a trick.

"Think the implants come with a money back guarantee?"

Liara smiles faintly. "We can't afford that repayment." She says. Shepard nearly smiles. She picks up the model ship again, running her fingers over it. "You never forgave me for not saving this thing." She waves the toy at Liara.

"That's not true." Does Shepard feel guilty about it? She'd never said so at the time. Liara never remarked on it. Shepard made a decision. Perhaps it wasn't the one that Liara would have made but who can imagine the pressure Shepard must have been under? She acted in the interests of her people—just as the council had always acted in the interests of theirs.

"Really?" A quick smile and she sets it down.

"Shepard. What's wrong?" Liara tilts her head to observe her, wishing it gave her clarity and finding the woman to be completely unreadable. "You've never spoken of the Ascension… and that was long ago."

"Not that long ago. You're the asari. Shouldn't our roles be reversed? With time," she clarifies. "Few years may not be a long time to you—but it's a hell of a long time to me." She closes her eyes, shoves her hands in the pockets of her hoodie and looks back at Liara. "So. Want to go to bed?"

"That's… forward. Even for you." Liara goes even closer to her. "The answer is 'no'. Just so we're clear."

"Spoilsport."

"You don't usually spend your time here."

"Traynor and Garrus are busy."

"Is that all it is?" That would be a relief. The explanation is viable enough—Shepard isn't known for sugarcoating hard truths… but something about her. Liara doesn't buy it. And Shepard won't meet her eyes. Liara cups Shepard's face. Has it always been so warm to the touch? Or is it implants? Perhaps something more? Has Shepard been drinking…? Shepard pulls her face away. "Talk to me, Shepard."

"What good does talking do?" she pushes her hands through her hair. She paces. "We both know I prefer action."

"Yes." She waits. They'd both gotten a good share recently. Palaven and Tuchanka were no cakewalks. Liara is still bruised and sore from all the fighting. Shepard must be even more so. Sometimes Liara wonders if the woman knows what cover means. She always charges ahead like a maniac. Maybe she is part krogan, as Samantha had inquired to her about. "But I know you. You're more than…" she tries to think of a proper identifier and finds that she can't find a suitable one. "You're more than this."

"Am I?" she touches one finger, then two and then three to the desk where Liara's computer is stationed. "Liara…" Liara waits. Shepard's hair falls over her face. It takes every fiber of Liara's being to not push it away and peer into her face. "Why am I the one in charge of making decisions? Mordin and Eve are…"

Oh. Goddess, how could she have been so foolish, so blind? That happened only days ago and Liara's already pushed it out of her mind, focused on the next goal. Casualties are expected in war. Liara had admired Eve—she was a good woman but her mindset had been bigger in scale, she considered what it meant for the war effort. Mordin, another unfortunate loss but at least he completed the genophage cure. Without it…

Is she cold? She thought only of their moments together, what they contributed to the war effort and not the future they would lack. Not everyone thinks as the asari do. "I didn't know it had been bothering you." Shepard's eyes charge on her, enraged—and beneath that, hurt. Liara is grateful not to wince. "You had acted as if… I am… sorry." Had Shepard held on to her bravado for so long that even Liara had come to believe it? She curses herself once more for being a fool. "I am sorry, Shepard," she says again. "I didn't… I didn't know."

After all these years, she is once again reduced to a stammering idiot in front of the commander. Liara sighs inwardly. She had thought those days gone. Shepard's gaze leaves Liara, leaving her relieved and anxious. She focuses on everything now, on nothing.

Liara impulsively grabs Shepard's hand. It's cold. Shepard looks down at their twined fingers. "You can do this, Shepard. It will… well, it will be hard. But you have me and everyone else. If you need to talk… or. Anything." She covers Shepard's hand with her other one and gently releases it. "Now… is the time where you make some ill-timed comment or inappropriate joke."

Shepard's sad, defeated smile pierces Liara. "I'd rather take you to bed than talk." She bows her head, the small smile still tugging her lips. "How was that?" Liara parts her lips but no words come out. "Hey. Thanks."

Liara wonders if she should have asked her to stay.

* * *

"It's time for P.T., Soldier," Shepard tells her. Traynor, sitting in the mess hall, looks as if she suspects that she may be hallucinating. "So put your toys away and get ready," Shepard shoves the chess set from in front of her. The woman is obsessed. "There's a war going on and we can't afford to slack. I want you dressed and at the shuttle bay in five."

Shepard leaves her there, dumbfounded. It's two in the morning and she's still awake. Nightmares and guilt keep her up, but what's Traynor's excuse? The only ones that keep her kind of hours are Traynor and Liara. Liara is too busy to breathe most of the time; she can't bother her.

Then there's Traynor. Shepard wonders how she made it into the Alliance. Sure she's smart but how'd she make it past training? They don't let you in for being pretty (but as long as they stay off her battlefield, Shepard can't say she minds).

She takes the elevator to the shuttle bay and does warm-up exercises. She has to find a way to get rid of all of the tension and energy in her body. It's hard to focus. She can't afford mistakes. Not any more of them. The elevator doors open and Traynor steps out, yawning, rubbing her eyes. She's changed into her fatigues but walks languidly towards her.

"Ready for some training?" Shepard takes a few practice swings through the air, watching Traynor's eyes widen in surprise.

"Erm…do you mean training or do you mean sparring? I don't actually fight, Commander. Unless you've got some kind of workout for my hands." Traynor mimes typing at the same time that Shepard turns a lascivious smile on her. Traynor's hands immediately drop to her sides. "I…can't believe I just said that. Out loud."

Shepard laughs and lifts her arms over her head, pulling each arm by the elbow in the opposite direction and holding them until they burn. "Ever heard of Freud, Traynor?"

"Yeah." Traynor begins to do some stretches of her own, twisting arms from side to side, bending so that the tips of her fingers touch the toe of her opposite foot. Shepard can't say that she minds the view. "He was full of shit."

"You have a dirty mouth. Sounds like you need discipline."

"Discipline? Are you planning on spanking me?" Another pause. Shepard smirks. "Maybe…there was something to Freud after all."

They begin to jog in place. "Pick up your knees," Shepard tells her. Traynor does but not high enough. Shepard lifts her hand. "This high, come on. Being on the Normandy has spoiled you."

"I bloody hate you. Need I remind you it's near two-thirty in the morning?" Traynor is quiet several minutes and Shepard takes some comfort in seeing that despite her substandard opinion about herself, she appears to be keeping up with Shepard physically. "Is this really necessary? I'm not out on the battlefield like you are."

"You're a soldier. You're  _my_ soldier. It's your job to be ready."

"Right, ma'am." Traynor says. Shepard frowns, unsure of why Traynor's suddenly formal. Perhaps being dragged to work out at an obscenely early hour will do that to a person. "I can't imagine how you do this."

"Work out often enough, you get used to it."

"Not that. This. This war. Your command. Everything."

Shepard abandons running in place and begins doing laps around the shuttle bay. It's a small space but it's better than standing still. Standing still will be the death of her. Traynor follows suit, jogging beside her. Quiet. Her breaths are easy, regular enough; she's not overly strained. The Alliance, if nothing else, turns out fit soldiers.

They jog for ten minutes before Shepard stops, walking to the middle of the shuttle bay floor, raising her arms defensively. The space is dark except for the floor lights. "So, how do you dance?" She has to give it to James; he has a way with words. She'd never thought of fighting as a dance. Maybe it depends on your partner. She wouldn't mind dancing with Traynor.

"How do I dance? Better than you, if I recall," she lifts her arms tentatively, her expression mildly discomfited, "you're not really going to make me do this, are you?"

"You didn't mind dancing before. But yeah, I'm going to make you. Commander's orders."

"But you can take me, easy."

"Only if you offer no resistance," Shepard smiles. "If that's the route you want to take, I'd hate to discourage you." She steps forward, Traynor steps backward. "You sure you made it into the Alliance? Come on, Traynor. Show me what you've got." Traynor tries to hit her. Shepard raises an arm, easily blocking it. "Try again."

"Why?"

"I want you to lay me flat on my back."

Traynor throws another punch, her eyes lighting cheerfully. "I'll do my best to accommodate you," another lunge forward, Shepard sidesteps and swings viciously. She stops just short of her face. Traynor flinches, eyes squeezed shut. "You didn't hit me," she says breathlessly.

"Well… you have such a pretty face."

Traynor cocks her fist and pops Shepard. Pain explodes on Shepard's cheek but she barely notices. "You sucker punched me," she says with some bewilderment.

Traynor tests her fist carefully, curling and uncurling the fingers. "I don't know. We were sparring. I wouldn't say it came entirely out of nowhere." Traynor says glibly. Shepard turns away from her, frowning gently. "We, of the pretty faces, have to resort to such dastardly tactics. Commander." She stands straight as Shepard rubs at her face. A moment later she salutes. "Erm. Sorry," she says cringing still. "Are you going to throw me out an airlock now? Does this count as insubordination?"

"No." Shepard goes to the Kodiak and steps inside, shutting the door behind her. She has a seat. She's losing her touch. There's no way Traynor would have been able to land a hit otherwise. If she can't dodge that how the hell is she going to survive a Reaper head on? She grabs the steering wheel and rests her forehead against it. She wishes she could sleep.

Minutes later the door to the Kodiak creaks open. "Commander?" Traynor slips inside, carefully pulling the door shut. "You know, this isn't a very good hiding spot. I watched you walk in and everything. Then again from everything I've heard about you, you prefer a more direct assault. Is everything all right? I'm pretty sure I don't hit as hard as those monsters you fight regularly."

"Give yourself some credit, Traynor. You have a pretty good swing."

"Really?" she perks.

"No." she turns her face to look at Traynor, whose face is outlined in the pale yellow light of the Kodiak. "You should have never hit me."

"You asked…"

Shepard grimaces. " _I_ should have never let you hit me," she clarifies. "I'm…distracted."

"It's late. You've been busy. The natural thing to do is sleep. Not drag your yeoman to the shuttle bay to spar. And here I suspected you of some trickery. I was mistaken and I can't say whether I'm disappointed or not." There's a beat. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Shepard sits up. She sighs. Turns her head to look at Traynor. Does she want to talk about how hard it is, how many millions more will die while she figures out answers? Does she want to talk about all the men she lost on Torfan and how her decisions come back repeatedly to bite her in the ass? Does she want to talk about the nightmares that have been plaguing her, rendering her unable to rest? Yes. "No."

Traynor pouts. Shepard smiles without meaning to. "Are you still so sore? Because I hit you?  _Where_  I hit you?" she teases. "I can't wait until I can tell everyone that I kicked your ass. At two-thirty in the morning!"

"Traynor—" Shepard grabs her wrist. Any smart assed comment Traynor had dies on her lips. There's scuffling. Traynor shifts until she's sitting sideways on her lap. Shepard looks at her; her face is young and trusting. There's so much that she hasn't seen, that she doesn't know. It's too bad that she'll probably die before the end of this. If Ash and Mordin and Eve can die, if little boys can die, why not her…? Shepard shivers.

"What's wrong?"

"I was going to tell you to shut up," she confesses.

Traynor drapes her arms around her neck. "Why don't you?"

"I'd rather kiss you." Shepard circles her arms around Traynor's waist. Traynor glides her fingers along Shepard's face, along the scars where the implants are, making her self-conscious. Shepard keeps still. She looks at her. Traynor brings their faces close. Shepard touches a finger to her lips. "I can't… commit to anything that isn't the war right now. Things are… You know how things are," she says softly.

Shepard's face burns shamefully. This is a conversation she's had many times prior when she was full capable of commitment and didn't want any part of it. Now it sounds like a flimsy excuse, even to her. But if she can barely keep herself together, how can she be strong for anyone else? She can't commit the time needed to maintain a healthy relationship. When she's tried before she's failed and disappointed her partners. She thinks of Liara. Traynor's voice snaps her back.

"You mean you won't bear and raise my children? What good are you?"

Shepard smiles wryly. If nothing else, Traynor has a sense of humor. She can't think of anything that's more important during these dark times. Besides finding the goddamn catalyst. There's that. "I'm serious," Shepard says.

"Right. Well… I'm taking things one day at a time now. I'm not expecting forever. You're my CO."

"Are you sure?"

"Why so serious, Commander? It's only a kiss." Her thumb grazes Shepard's cheek before her eyes slip shut, her lips hovering over hers. Shepard hadn't known how much she'd needed the kiss until their lips brush together and the fire takes her.

* * *

Traynor's skin glistens, hair damp. She wears perfume, subtle but present. Liara mentally notes that she hadn't heard the showers running previously while she and Garrus had been speaking in front of memorial wall minutes ago. The detail is filed away. Traynor looks around the room with wide-eyed wonder, looking into the monitors, more briefly at the computer terminals.

"Well… I can see how this room draws the power levels that it does." Traynor says. Glyph introduces himself in the moment it takes Traynor to pause. Liara listens to their conversation absently. She wishes he'd stop being a nuisance to anyone who visits. She rarely has guests as it is. "This place is incredible. How did you manage to get all of this here?" she touches some of the equipment. "My God, this technology… where did it come from?"

"That is all… a very long story." Liara leans into the wall, watching her browse and marvel. She spots the model Ascension ship and thinks of Shepard. She looks back to Traynor.

"I've got time to hear it. It's amazing how much time you have on your hands if you keep the hours reserved for sleep open." Traynor glances back at her, catches Liara watching and stalls. Liara doesn't look away. She smiles and walks closer to Traynor. "But… I do feel like I'm taking up your time. If you  _are_ the Shadow Broker—and I greatly suspect you are—you must have little time for rest."

"Mh." She's close now. Traynor blushes under her gaze. Liara is amazed she can provoke this reaction in another person. How is it possible?

"You know…" Traynor rambles, "I always imagined the Shadow Broker to be some kind of monster… or… or perhaps a volus. Salarian…" Liara touches her cheek, smooth unscarred flesh beneath her fingertips. Traynor releases a quick, sharp breath. "I never imagined someone like you."

"Maybe I'm not the Shadow Broker." Liara's hand falls away. She looks at Traynor and how the monitors bring light to her face in the darkness.

"So… you just like spending all your time in here, secluded and alone, for kicks?"

"You forget that I was a Prothean archaeologist. That's how I spent most of my time. Anyway," she looks at the terminal, sizing up the new information that's coming in, mentally prioritizing it by importance, "I'm not alone now, am I?"

"I… suppose not." Traynor clears her throat gently.

"Tell me, Samantha, why do you keep the hours that you do? I don't imagine it's for the benefit of my company."

Traynor smiles. "Do you mean that's not reason enough?" a small bittersweet smile touches her lips. "Honestly, I'm still getting used to all of this. The Reapers on earth, war. Everything that happened before barely touched me. Except for Horizon, of course," she adds quickly, "but no matter how it may have stayed with me, it was over relatively quickly. I wasn't in the thick of it like Shepard was. Anyway," she straightens, "I'm. Having a little trouble sleeping. It's not every night but… I haven't heard from my parents."

"I see." Liara wouldn't have known it. She's heard other members of the crew talk about their missing loved ones but not Traynor. Perhaps that is only because she never spends much time interacting with anybody. "I am sorry, Samantha. I hope for the best. If you would like, I could dedicate a few resources to… monitoring certain lines of communication."

"So many lines are down right now. I'll admit… I've used some of the Normandy's resources to espy on the situation. I've turned up nothing. But that's not exactly a surprise considering there are nations that we're not sure still exist."

"Do you think they're all right?"

"I hope so. Do you have family?"

Liara thinks of her mother. "Not anymore." Then a grimace. "Well… I suppose in a manner of speaking…" How is Aethyta doing since she last spoke to her? "That's another long story. Maybe I'll tell you sometime."

Traynor nods. "If the offer still stands, anything you could find out…" Liara nods. "Great. I'll patch you everything I know soon. In the meantime… how about a tour?"

Liara will always be awed at how skilled people become in compartmentalizing the difficulties in their lives. She can't pretend that she doesn't do much of the same. In the years that Shepard was dead… She pushes it away. "A tour?" She gestures at the floor, "take notice of the many wires and power cables. Try not to trip over them, unplugging one of these for even a moment…" Traynor looks down cautiously, "you've already seen the monitors and the terminals. It's not much of a tour, I'm afraid." She moves away from her and picks up the model Ascension, "the ship that is no more," she shows it to her, "and my bed."

Traynor glances at it, a faint smile on her face. "The sheets are impeccable."

Liara looks at the bed, made or unmade depending on how one looks at it. She doesn't recall if she simply smoothed the sheets out earlier or if she simply hasn't slept on it in several days. "I'm afraid it doesn't get much use."

Traynor laughs softly. "I suppose you have nothing to do with that." Liara looks at her curiously. Is she saying that she works too much? Or, perhaps, that she's distant and unreasonable? "That is… even the blind can tell how attractive you are. Anyone," she stammers, "would gladly…" Liara cocks her head to look at her. Traynor twines her fingers. "That is… You were… being literal about the bed. Oh, God. How much trouble will this mouth of mine get me into? I really—"

Liara touches Traynor's arm lightly. Traynor's onslaught of words comes to a stop. "Relax, Samantha. I've yet to find any fault with your mouth."

Traynor's lips part.

The door to the room slides open. Shepard walks in. Both women take a step away from each other. Liara crosses her arms. Shepard is always barging in uninvited. This time she sports a bruise along her cheekbones. It's several hues. "When will you learn to wear your helmet?" Liara asks. "What are you doing here?"

"Didn't mean to interrupt," Shepard says. She looks at Traynor and then back at Liara who looks at her quizzically, waiting. "You two having a night cap?"

"Liara was just giving me a tour," Traynor says and whether consciously or no, she takes yet another step backward from Liara. "It's really… quite marvelous."

"There are only a few things in here that I'd call marvelous," Shepard waves a data pad at Liara. "Found a few things you might be interested in from people down on the ground." She looks at Traynor. "I'm here for business, I'm afraid."

"That's a change," Liara says.

Traynor looks between the two of them, uncertainty clear as day in her eyes. "I… had better turn in for the night. I've got to report to CIC in…" She looks at her wrist, her eyes narrowing.

Shepard throws a wristwatch at her. "Found this."

Traynor catches it, just barely. She stares at the face of the watch for too long, before wrapping her fingers around it. "CIC in three and a half hours." She clears her throat. "Now, if you'll excuse me. Goodnight, Commander." She salutes and looks at Liara, her eyes somewhat downcast. "Goodnight. Thank you—for the tour."

Liara nods at her. Traynor exits. Liara is sad to see her go. She redirects her attention to Shepard who is tapping the datapad in her hand. "Found her watch, hm?" she moves over to the terminal, puzzled and unclear on what she's feeling. "You say you've brought reports. I don't know what you could have brought that I don't already know about but you're free to leave it and be on your way."

"That's cold, Liara. Even for you."

"We can't all run around delivering watches." She's being ridiculous and she knows it. Shepard chuckles. "You know what I've told you about your helmet," she continues. "What happened to your face?" Liara tears herself away from the terminal long enough to look her over. It isn't the worst Shepard's ever received by a long shot, but still, Shepard can afford to take some precautions.

"Traynor packs a mean punch."

Liara arches an eyebrow. Traynor? "I won't ask. Knowing you," she says with a faint smile, "you deserved it."

"You're just angry she did it before you did." Shepard sets the data pad aside and looks into the terminal that Liara had been working on.

Liara watches her profile but can't figure what she's thinking. Why did she have Traynor's watch? They're not things that are casually left behind. She shouldn't think of it. "So… You and Samantha are…" Shepard shrugs. "I thought—" she stops. "I thought you didn't…"

Shepard turns away from the screen to look at Liara. She steps away from the terminal but remains close to her. "She knows what this is."

"You told her?" Liara creates distance between them. Even now her feelings about Shepard are conflicted. She is one of the best things the universe has ever seen. But sometimes she wants to throttle her. "How good of you."

This has always been the way with Shepard. She lets others in, or gives them the illusion of being in but in the end she pushes them away, shuts them out. Perhaps with Samantha she will make some progress but Liara is uncomfortable with letting her be the experiment for Shepard to figure herself out.

"I learn from my mistakes." Shepard stuffs her hands in the pockets of her hoodie again, shifting weight from one leg to another. "I don't regret what I've done. What's happened between us. I need to be clearheaded. I needed to be clearheaded."

"Between our legs?"

"That's not fair, Liara."

Liara turns away from her, running her fingers over her head thoughtfully. She doesn't know why she's behaving this way now. She knows what Shepard is, who she is, what she wants, what she needs. She knows, perhaps, better than Shepard herself does. Is she only resentful for ever having wanted more? "You're right. I... am sorry. It's been a long time. And you're under more pressure than ever. I shouldn't add to that. Just... be careful, Shepard."

"I always am."

"No. You aren't. You're reckless. With just about everything." She pauses, brushing her fingers along the bruise on Shepard's cheek. Her hand falls away, eyes adjusting until she's all focus again. "I meant be careful with Samantha."

"Why? Is she secretly an Ardat Yakshi?" Liara shoots her a look. "Jealous?" Shepard asks. Liara looks in her direction but doesn't meet her eyes. She picks up the datapad Shepard brought her and begins to skim the contents. "What kind of tour did you give her, Liara? The economic option or the grand tour deluxe?"

"You're absurd."

"You know, Traynor and I are no strings attached. If you're interested."

Are they? Or is Shepard pulling her leg, trying to get a response? She won't give it to her. Shepard, if nothing else, knows how to push a person's buttons. "I won't dignify that with a response."

"That's the problem with you asari." Shepard crosses her arms and leans into the wall. "Too dignified to have any fun."

She knows how to have fun. Sort of. Sometimes. She has, before. Liara frowns. "Have you…?" she hadn't meant to speak. She wishes she could take the words back.

"Have I what?" The grin is in her voice. Once again, Shepard's trying to get a reaction and having fun with it. "Slept with her?"

"That isn't what I was going to ask," she says heatedly.

"What were you going to ask?" Shepard asks chipperly. Liara is silent. "Either way—I don't kiss and tell." She grins when Liara looks at her skeptically. "Not when I know it'll drive you up the wall wondering. So tell me, Liara. Who are you really jealous of?"

The datapad feels heavy in her hand. She sets it down with some effort. She looks at her. She isn't sure how. Shepard straightens, looking serious, looking concerned. "Shepard… I really do have a lot of work to do."

"I'll leave you to it." Shepard gets to the door. "Liara… take a break from all this. Relax, any way you can. If this is the end… don't waste it."

"I'll keep that in mind." She won't keep that in mind. She can't be fatalistic about their mission. She returns to work, happy to lose herself in the endless stream of data.


	4. The Arrangement

Broken shards of glass litter the floor beside the window. The wall next to the apartment entrance is riddled with bullet holes. Shepard sees where the Cerberus helicopters and shuttles shot through the walls, lodging thick rounds that would collapse any person they hit.

"Commander," Traynor's fingertips on her chin, diverting her attention away from the damage Cerberus caused when it attacked the Citadel. Shepard can still hear the gunfire. She's heard it before but this is the Citadel. Even after Sovereign attacked, some part of her thought that it would be safe—that it would be safe from human attack, anyway. "Eyes up here," Traynor gestures to her eyes. Shepard looks into them, brown with fragments of bronze in the light, framed by dark lashes.

Traynor found her in Purgatory, drinking, and had dragged her away. Shepard is still somewhat unsteady on her feet. Visions of Huerta Memorial and Thane flash in her mind. Shepard clasps Traynor's mouth, keenly feeling the specialist's hands along her back, sliding under her shirt.

Shepard thinks of Kai Leng, brandishing his sword, the blade red. Traynor gasps. Shepard blinks. There's a curve of red along Traynor's lower lip. Traynor dabs it gently with a finger. Blood. Shepard tries not to look horrified. "A little…exuberant, are we?" Traynor takes Shepard's face when she tries to look away.

"Whose place is this?" Shepard asks. There's a small kitchen to the left of the entrance, a bookshelf piled with books. Small single chairs and a coffee table with a vase.

"Don't know. All of these apartments were evacuated. I never thought you would get hung up on breaking and entering. We've only technically done the second." There's a beat. "You can't get lost in…whatever it is you're getting lost in, Commander." She touches her face.

Shepard slips her arms around her, scooping her up. Traynor wraps her legs around her waist. Shepard leads them to the bed. There's glass on the comforter, no doubt from the rain of bullets during the attack. Shepard waves her fingers at the bed and the comforter flies away in a biotic wave, taking all the glass with it.

The azure sky and sun shine cheerfully outside the spotless floor to ceiling window. Far off in the distance, ant sized cars streak by. The alcohol makes Shepard's head spin or maybe it's Traynor's kiss, insistent and present that makes her further away and unbearably close in one.

They fall to the bed. Traynor straddles her, an impish smile on her lips. Shepard kisses her hard. Traynor sighs softly.

Will the Citadel ever be the same again?

Udina's dead. Thane is dead. Mordin's dead. Eve's dead. She'd nearly had to shoot Kaidan. Traynor yanks Shepard's shirt over her head. "Shepard," Traynor whispers, touch skirting along her jaw, lifting Shepard's gaze to hers. "If I can't keep your attention during this I'm really done for." Shepard smiles when Traynor grabs her wrists, bringing her hands to explore along her body. "And don't tell me you're shy," Traynor says, "I don't believe that for a moment."

"Saw right through me, did you?"

"I'm afraid so," she lifts her arms so Shepard can pull the shirt away from her.

Shepard sets the shirt aside. There are birds singing outside. The cool breeze comes in through the bullet-addled window. Shepard flips Traynor onto her back. Traynor looks up at her, surprised but offering no resistance. She smiles. Shepard is afraid. But she doesn't know of what.

"Why'd you pull me out of that place?" Shepard asks. They'd been docked for a few hours. Shepard was getting plastered when Traynor found her, dragged her out of the dark corners, took her to the Presidium to 'walk it off', cheerfully broken into the evacuated apartment.

"You want to talk instead of make passionate love to me?" She pouts, "I must have no wiles at all." Shepard looks at her, waiting. Traynor trails a hand along Shepard's stomach, up to her shoulder. "It's so easy to… I've seen this happen before. Good soldiers get caught up in things so far beyond their control. This place, the Citadel, has… it's been like a home to you, hasn't it? It's special." Shepard says nothing. "So… I thought, before all those good memories of this place were stripped because of what happened… why not we make some new memories. Fun ones. So you don't only remember that—wretchedness." She averts her eyes. "Maybe that's stupid."

Shepard strokes her face until Traynor looks at her again. "No."

She smiles. "That's a relief. But… it's rather difficult to make those new memories when you keep interrupting me with conversation."

"You don't like talking to me?"

Traynor laughs. Her hands slide lower along Shepard, continuing their path until they reach their intended destination. Traynor has her attention. "Right now I'd rather listen."

* * *

"Don't step on any glass," Shepard tells her. She's pulling her boots on. Traynor remains on the bed, on her side, her hand where Shepard was previously lying next to her. Shepard stands and gathers Traynor's clothing, setting it on the bed for her. Traynor's eyes are on her. Shepard settles next to her for a moment, placing a kiss on her shoulder. "Are you planning on staying?"

"In this abandoned apartment, by myself? There's no point." She props herself up on her elbow, resting her face in the palm of her hand. "You're in an awful rush. I thought you'd want to stay longer."

"Don't get me wrong. It's tempting."

"But…?"

Shepard looks at her. Samantha is beautiful. Sure, she could stay here in bed with her, listening to the birds and the sounds of cars flying in the distance. She could stay in this bed with her making happy new memories, keeping her in her arms. It nearly happened. Shepard startled herself violently awake when she'd nearly fallen asleep. "This is something that could easily become something else if we're not careful," she says. Traynor bows her head, smiles. "I don't want there to be any mix-ups." For either of their sakes.

"Is it easy for you to fall in love, Commander?"

"No." She thinks of Liara. She thinks of the times she's turned her away. "But everyone works differently." Their fingertips touch. Shepard pulls her hand away. "Samantha. If you're having any second thoughts…"

"You know, for a thoughtless barbarian you put a lot of thought into things," she sits up and begins to dress. Shepard doesn't take her eyes off her. Traynor catches her looking and smiles. "I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself. And you," she leans over and catches her lips, "you can take care of the rest of us."

Shepard forces a smile, her eyes lingering on the bullet holes in the wall. "You bet."

* * *

Everything is dark; plumes of dirt blind her. She has no air in her lungs. Liara doesn't know what it is that hit her, exactly. There are so many cannibals, so many husks, a few brutes, an army of enemies. Her nose is clogged with dirt, she hacks dryly, pain ripping through her when she tries to turn on her side.

There is a cannibal materializing before her. His pungent odor gives him away more than his physical presence. He looms over her. Liara can see the parts of it that were batarian before. She grimaces and lifts her gun.

A shower of red splatters all around her. Chunks of the cannibal fall in pieces to the ground. Shepard exits through the cloud of smoke, her eyes focused and ruthless. She cocks the shotgun, a shell falls beside Liara who looks at her gratefully, watches her swivel to the side to pump a round into the skull of a husk that comes sprinting from the far left. An instant later, three husks raceforward. Shepard rips them apart with a biotic charge.

Liara tries to sit up. Shepard grabs the scruff of her jacket and drags her behind cover. Liara leans against it, closing her eyes, trying to find her breath. "You okay?" Shepard asks. Her face is smudged with dirt and blood. Liara nods. "Stay here."

"Wait—"

She's gone. Liara hears the blasts of gunfire. James is somewhere but Liara's not sure where. She calls out Shepard's name and gets no response. With some effort she pushes to her feet, making her way through the rubble and the rocky terrain. Bodies of the enemy are littered everywhere but no Shepard. Liara's heart plummets.

She wanders more, calling out to Shepard when she finally sees her. Shepard is reclined against a craggy earthy rock, head tilted back, taking jagged breaths. Her hand is to her stomach, blood pumping between her fingers.

Liara freezes, a moment in time spiraling into forever. Her worst fears manifesting again. When Shepard died, there was something in Liara that died as well. Something Liara was grateful to have die—an emotion capable of provoking unimaginable hurt. Liara knows her people, her ways—perhaps she is too young yet—but she is not accustomed to death. Or maybe she isn't ready to accept Shepard's.

She buries the torrent of emotion and rushes to her, looking around wildly for the attacker but sees no one. "How…?" she asks. Shepard smirks and closes her eyes. She looks at peace. Liara slaps her. Shepard's eyes snap open. "Now isn't the time to rest." Liara looks around. "We'll have to get your chest piece off."

A joke doesn't come. Shepard's hand leaves the wound at her side to help unlatch the armor. The blood flows freely now, spurting. Shepard's pale. Her helmet is at her side. "Wore it," Shepard manages.

"That's good," Liara says, "Just think if whatever did this to you had caught your head," another faint, tired smile graces Shepard's lips. Liara has never seen that smile on Shepard, bittersweet and surrendering. It terrifies her. "I have some medi-gel. You'll be all right."

"You all right? Earlier…" she winces.

"Yes, I'm fine," Liara's voice shakes. "Thank you… for coming back for me."

"No one left behind," she says wryly.

Liara knows Shepard is experiencing more survivor's guilt.

"Stop talking, Shepard." She glares at her as she unbuckles the last latches of the armor. If enemies were to arrive now... Liara throws up a biotic shield just in case. She works quickly, throwing the armor piece to the side. "Why do you have to be so foolish? Why couldn't you have waited for me?" Shepard wheezes in response. Liara's eyes sting.

She takes Shepard's plain white shirt that she wears beneath the armor, soaked in blood and pulls it up. She's seen worse but not on Shepard. She's never been able to see her insides before. Shepard looks at her as if she doesn't see her. Liara smiles bravely. "Just a small scratch," she tells her.

"You were always a sorry liar," Shepard says tightly.

Liara doesn't waste another moment. She applies the medi-gel. Shepard hisses and grunts, doubling over. No doubt her flesh pulling together isn't a pleasant feeling. Liara looks at her anxiously. She's done all that she can for her. She'll have to get her to Chakwas shortly. She radios Cortez for immediate pick-up and alerts the Normandy to the change in plans. "I'll help you with your armor," she says. It never hurts to be safe. Now that the medi-gel has been applied there's not much more she can do for her.

"I prefer it when you're taking my clothes off," Shepard manages weakly, her eyes now half-closed. "One of those snipers. Couldn't see with all the smoke," she mutters, lifting her arms weakly for Liara to strap the armor into place. "Tore her head off."

"Good."

"So tired."

"You'll rest once Dr. Chakwas sees you."

"Do you ever have nightmares, Liara?"

Liara looks at her. She wishes she had a wet cloth to wipe the grime and blood from Shepard's face. Why is she asking? Shepard has never been the kind to talk about these things. "Yes."

"What about?"

Her mother. Failing. Something happening to Shepard. "Lots of things," she says softly. She cradles Shepard's face in her hand. The commander smiles tiredly, as if it's all a joke she only understands part of. "Have… you been having nightmares, Shepard?" Shepard takes deep deliberate breaths, her gaze downward. "Shepard." Shepard flicks her eyes toward her. "You'll make it through this."

"Promise?"

How many times has she asked Shepard to make the same promises to her? How often had Shepard tried to gently refuse her? Still, she'd been insistent with Shepard. Perhaps demanding. Liara doesn't have an answer for her. Not one that she can guarantee as the truth. Goddess. How she wishes she could promise! "I believe you can."

Shepard laughs weakly. "That the best you've got? Uh oh." Liara kisses her briefly, closing her eyes, in a moment of desperation. She's unable to stop the dam of memories that spills loose when their lips connect. She doesn't have the right words. She doesn't lie convincingly enough. She doesn't want to fool herself into believing in something that can't happen. Whenever she stops long enough to think she becomes scared. Shepard feebly returns the kiss. Liara smooths the hair from her face. Shepard gives her a lopsided smile. "Guess I'll have to take your word for it."

Liara takes her hand, holds it tightly. She doesn't let go until James and the Normandy arrive.

* * *

Traynor takes a deep breath awed by the endless expanse of stars before her.

The last few days have been hectic. Many battles have been fought, communication monitored. Shepard's been hurt. Traynor thinks of when she went to the med-bay, to see her. Chakwas told her that Shepard didn't want visitors. Traynor left like a puppy with its tail between its legs. Later, Shepard found her and kissed her cheek, acting as if nothing had happened.

She sighs inwardly. Time is spiraling forward out of control. There isn't enough time.

Minutes ago, Traynor set the laptop she worked on aside, focusing instead on the endless stars outside. They're calming. The stars, at least, are constant. They can never disappear. Not all of them.

The doors to the lounge room open. Traynor turns away from the window. Liara walks in. Traynor's stomach fills with butterflies. Maybe she's hungry. They haven't spoken in a few days.

"What happened to your lip?" Liara asks.

Traynor doesn't know what she means. Liara's brow furrows and then she's close, warm fingers on her face, thumb brushing the cut. Oh. She's on fire. She doesn't know how to explain it. "Just a small accident," she says. There could have been much better ways to explain. Liara looks at her thoughtfully and moves away, wandering the lounge, looking. "Do you come here often?"

"Not really. I don't have much time for card games or drinking. And," she adds, "I'm not always invited."

"You have mentioned preferring your hermit-like ways," Traynor says with a faint smile. She watches her explore the room. "Or perhaps they're intimidated." Liara glances at her. "I would be."

"Why?"

Traynor laughs softly, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "For someone who's the Shadow Broker… I thought you'd have more self-awareness." Liara continues to stare and Traynor shifts where she stands. "It's hard to explain, really. It's like… the way you always manage to make me put my foot in my mouth."

"That's all your doing," Liara points out.

" _Yes,_ but… it's telling that it only happens around you." She clears her throat. "Are you all right? The battles on ground are getting… worse, aren't they? Shepard was in the med-bay for a few days. When I asked her about it—she made it sound like it was nothing. But you don't stay in the med-bay for days for a scratch." She thinks of how Shepard grimaced when her hand accidentally brushed over her stomach. Is it fair that she gets to call herself Alliance and doesn't do any fighting…? The bravery of the members onboard makes her feel like a coward. She finds new targets for them to hit and then her friends go out and fight. Is it right?

"She was trying to protect you."

"Why?" Is she so weak?

"Because…" Liara considers. "Shepard never wants anyone to worry… or see that she's human. I'm not sure. I'm afraid I've never figured her out completely. People think she's unstoppable. She might think it's important they keep thinking that." She keeps moving going to the bar and picking up several bottles, looking them over before setting them down. Traynor looks at the laptop and decides it can be ignored for a few more minutes. She goes to the bar and takes a seat on the stool. "Should I serve you a drink?" she asks.

"Only if you'll join me. Otherwise it will look very pathetic."

"I'd hate for that to happen."

Liara grabs the bottle with the neon blue liquid and sets two glasses in front of them, filling them a quarter of the way. Traynor can't help but think that she looks distracted. "You never answered whether you were all right," Traynor says, taking the glass when Liara slides it towards her.

"I'm…fine. I wasn't hurt. And when I am... Shepard takes care of her own. On the field." She looks at Traynor. "Actually… it makes me think. If something were to happen to me, I'm not sure what would happen to the Shadow Broker network. I've prepared for every eventuality except that one. With all the loss Shepard's suffered lately… I can't deny that it's a possibility."

Traynor hopes that Liara can't read the emotions on her face. "You have to be careful."

Liara continues. "I think that in the grand scheme of things… my death is not important. But Shepard's and the network—that  _would_  be a big loss. Perhaps I can set it so… Goddess. To think of all that data unmonitored."

Traynor frowns. "If something were to happen to you, it's not the network I'd be worried about."

"You may say that but... It's important to be realistic. There are matters that take priority. My loss wouldn't matter. It used to be that my Prothean 'expertise' set me apart from the others. But now we've found the data on the Crucible in the Mars archives. With Javik here I'm no longer necessary. Not in that role. And everyone knows—well, some know, that the Shadow Broker can be replaced and often has been."

"I'm probably biased but I'd rather learn about the Protheans from you than Javik." Liara is easier on the eyes if nothing else. But there's plenty else. The softness of her voice is lulling and makes a person want to listen.

Liara smiles faintly. "You are biased," she takes a drink, "but I can't say that I mind."

Traynor lifts her glass, allows a moment and takes a drink as well. The drink burns on the way down. "Anyway…" she's repeating herself, or maybe she just wants to make the point known. "If something were to happen to you… I don't think it's your network people would mourn."

"No? I'm not close to anyone." Her brow knits briefly. "There was my mother. Matriarch Benezia," she explains quickly, as if wanting to get the tidbit out of the way. "Because of how things with Saren played out people still regard me with suspicion. I'm a pureblood," she adds as if that were to explain anything, "and asides from the Normandy crew…" she sets the glass down. "That was years ago. I suppose I was never that close to them, either. Even now I keep to myself," she rubs her forehead absently.

Traynor only has vague notions of what purebloods are. She decides to look it up on the extranet later, not wanting to make a fool of herself in front of Liara. She's never known an asari outside of her and she says enough idiotic things as it is. It's hard to imagine Liara without a wealth of friends. Who wouldn't want to be in her company? "But you are close to some people. You and Commander Shepard… you mentioned that you were…" Together?

"Yes." She has another small drink. "Long ago," she reminds her. There's a beat. She turns her eyes on Traynor. Traynor forgets all thought, losing consciousness of even herself. It shouldn't be that Liara's blue eyes stand out so much given the rest of her but they do. Traynor is entranced. With some concentration she is able to look away. "So… You and Shepard... There's something between you."

Traynor bites her tongue and keeps her eyes on Liara's hand, resting on the counter. Traynor has another drink. She can't find her voice right away. Her cheeks heat. "Something between us? You make it sound as if…" She's talking to the pink neon bottle of alcohol and hardly notices when Liara takes delicate hold of her chin, shifting her face so that they look at each other. Traynor forgets what she'd been saying. "No. It's. It's nothing like that. It's…a distraction. An open-ended distraction. Nothing serious. Commander Shepard made that very clear. We can both see who we like when we have time." She averts her gaze from Liara, suddenly too hot.

Liara's touch falls away. She has another drink and leans into the wall beside the bar, her head tilted just so to look at her. Traynor is grateful to be sitting, knowing her legs would quiver and collapse were she standing. "You have time to see other people? I hardly see my reflection, much less either of you."

"There's a war going on. There hasn't been anybody for a long time. I don't need commitment." She sounds defensive and doesn't mean to be. She sits straighter on the stool and then doesn't, resting her elbows on the bar counter, looking at her. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not opposed to a relationship. Actually, that sounds rather nice. But…it's been a long time and I…" she is mortified. The following she delivers to the bottle of whisky. "I don't know when it's all going to end. I've… been wanting for company of the erm... romantic sort. Or missing it, maybe," she says under her breath, "but I'm smart. I know you don't find love in the middle of a war."

"Are you sure?"

She isn't, suddenly. Traynor persists. "I'm on the Normandy most of the time, monitoring communication or decrypting data, updating maps… It's rare that I get off. The ship." She takes a quick drink, draining the glass without meaning to. "I hardly have time to meet anyone. Commander Shepard's a good person. Beneath it all… there's." She thinks of Shepard on the Citadel, the hurt in her eyes, the worry. "It's enough for me to be there for her and have a good time. She's..." Traynor purses her lips thinking of her. "Not everything has to be serious."

Liara moves around the counter, taking a seat beside her. Traynor looks at her furtively. Liara keeps the glass between her hands. "She's done this before. She always keeps everyone at a distance. Maybe the rules are in place. It's good that Shepard made it clear. But rules don't much matter when you come to care for someone. When you see that vulnerability… it's hard to remain objective. No matter how smart you may be." She looks sad. "Shepard isn't always consistent but she is about some things. About the things that…" she hesitates. "Tell me, Samantha— will this arrangement be enough for you? You need to be sure. If you aren't..."

"Are you speaking from firsthand experience?"

"Maybe." There's another pause. Liara traces the rim of her glass and flicks her eyes to Traynor. Traynor considers it a victory that she doesn't fall off the barstool. "We're friends. Why didn't you tell me about the two of you?"

They're friends. Traynor flushes with pleasure. "What's there to tell?" Traynor looks at the counter. The truth is that she and Shepard have fun. They have a teasing relationship. Shepard has been company. It's been so long since she's had any romance in her life. Shepard is cocky, brilliant, attractive, a good lover and a host of other good things. She isn't ashamed. She knows why she wouldn't tell any of the other soldiers but she has no good excuse for why she wouldn't tell Liara. "I don't know why I didn't tell you. I suppose… I didn't know what you'd think."

"You thought I'd be angry about Shepard?"

"No. I thought…" The answer becomes glaringly clear. "I thought you'd think less of me." She can't stand the thought. Traynor looks at Liara until she can't anymore. She stares at her fingers. This is remarkably awkward and she doesn't know why.

"I don't. I just…want you to be careful."

"I am. I will be."

Liara covers Traynor's hand. Traynor focuses on the heat of her it, how it looks over hers. "As long as we're making confessions…" Traynor looks at her, not sure if she wants to get to her feet and sing or vomit. "Several days ago when Shepard was injured in battle… I kissed her." Traynor is sure she only wants to vomit. Maybe she drank too quickly. "There was so much blood… I couldn't think. I just…reacted." Liara looks at her steadily. "You said you were fine with the arrangement with Shepard. It's not anything I plan to make habit but…I thought you should know." Liara's fingers stroke Traynor's hand. "What are you thinking?"

She frowns gently. "I'm not sure." Her heart races. She thinks of the two women kissing in the middle of a battlefield, in a bedroom. "That... it's a pity I don't see battle more often. I'm so awful. I'm sure I'd accumulate a few good wounds. Maybe enough to earn a few of your kisses." Liara smiles. "That was a joke," she says weakly. "Lucky Shepard."

"Lucky Shepard, indeed."

Their hands shift, fingers nearly lacing. They pull their hands away at the same time.

Traynor stands and returns to the laptop still lying on the couch. "Do you know how distracting you are?" Traynor asks. Maybe it's her freckles. She has a weakness for freckles, it would seem. She settles the computer on her lap and tries to focus on her work. She tries to push both women from her mind. "Thanks for the drink."

Liara stops at the door, just before exiting. "Thank you for the company."


	5. Monsters

Liara gives her a kiss.

Her lips and tongue are not stained with blood and dust. It's sweet. It used to be sweet long ago. They were better long ago. Liara smiled more. It was more like an adventure. Everything wasn't life and death. There weren't so many dead. She still had a home.

Shepard remembers when her face wasn't etched in scars. Liara breathes her name. Shepard turns to her. She is the only light in the darkness. She follows her voice. Her touch makes her feel more… It makes her feel more.

She's always turned her away. Liara's a distraction. The worst sort of distraction. She will consume her. She already has. If she does not allow it… if she does not say it, they will both be safe. They kiss heatedly. Shepard draws her close. Her heart booms. Liara's touch on her face, fingers digging deep.

Shepard gasps but doesn't break the kiss. Liara's fingers break the skin, blood soaks her fingertips. She pulls the skin away, tearing it off her piece by piece. It doesn't hurt. Shepard breaks the kiss. Liara looks at the chunks of flesh in her hand and then at Shepard.

Shepard brings a hand to her cheek. There's cold metal beneath.

Shepard's eyes snap open. Her hands come to her face. It's still there. Her fingers touch the crevices along her cheek. She exhales and sits up. Her body is chilled and covered in sweat. She goes to the bathroom. Her eyes glow with hints of red in the darkness. She looks unnatural.

Shepard throws water on her face and looks away when she can't stand the sight of herself in the mirror any longer. She showers then takes the elevator to the third floor. She walks into Liara's room. The only light is the wall of monitors, the terminals, Glyph, that bobs in the corner silently.

Shepard stands at the end of the bed. She stands there only moments before Liara sits, biotic shield in place, hands pulsing with energy. Shepard raises her hands, a faint smile on her lips. "I surrender." Liara throws the sheets back. Shepard sits on the bed. "Still as paranoid as ever."

"Shepard, it's the middle of the night. You scared me half-to-death standing there like…" she shakes her head. Shepard wonders what she was going to say. Does she look like a ghoul in the darkness? Like a husk? "What's wrong?" She scoots up the bed to sit beside her. "You're not the one I'm used to seeing in the middle of the night."

Who is she used to seeing in the middle of the night? Is it Traynor? It doesn't matter. Shepard takes a breath. Suddenly she feels stupid running down to Liara in the middle of the night. What can she do? Maybe she should have gone to Traynor. Shepard delves her hands into her hoodie pockets and looks at her. "You're beautiful." Liara looks surprised that she's said it. Unbelieving. She looks away from her, bashful. Shepard sees the woman she met in Therum years ago.

"So are you," Liara says quietly.

"No." If she ever was, she isn't anymore. How could she be? She touches her face without knowing it.

"Why have you come?" she takes Shepard's arm, pulling it away so she can't play with the cuts on her face. "Some time ago you mentioned nightmares. Is that what happened?" Shepard doesn't answer right away. Eventually she nods. "What do you dream about, Shepard?"

Shepard smiles grimly. "Lots of things," she echoes Liara's words when Shepard asked her the same question. "They're just dreams. Dreams don't mean anything."

"Nothing at all. Which is why you're here." Liara says. Shepard exhales softly. She remembers when Liara hardly understood sarcasm. How things change. "Shepard…" Shepard looks at her. "I remember when you were a better liar." Liara's smile is capable of undoing the steeliest of soldiers.

"Could be you're better at seeing through people's bullshit."

"Mh. That might have something to do with it." She threads her fingers through Shepard's hair. "I learned from the best."

"Is that what you're calling me these days?" Shepard takes her wrist. Liara's smile is evasive. Their eyes lock briefly before Shepard looks away from her. She releases her wrist and falls back on the bed, stretching her arms overhead. "How do you think they indoctrinated the Cerberus soldiers?" Liara lies down next to her. "Do you think it was…" she looks at her. "What do you think it was?"

"I don't know. Their secrets are well guarded. If only I had someone on the inside. Like before."

"You mean Feron?" She still wonders if there was something between them. He was a traitor, according to Liara, but Shepard knows that Liara has never minded working with someone who's ruthless. Liara nods. "You think…" Shepard frowns. "You think… it might have something to do with… with implants? Cerberus has never been shy about upgrading themselves. Look at Miranda and Jack. The Illusive Man and…"

"You think you're indoctrinated?"

"No," she says sharply. The thought hadn't occurred to her. She doesn't know what had occurred to her. Not that. She props herself up on her elbows. "That isn't what I meant."

"Okay. What did you mean?" Liara looks at her curiously. Shepard isn't sure what she meant. "Are you worried?" Shepard shakes her head. "That would be understandable. Even if we're certain of victory we both know that it won't come without loss." Shepard shakes her head again. "No? You think there won't be more death?"

"Not if I can help it."

"You can't help it," Liara says. Shepard glowers at her. "The more you think that, the harder this will be."

"So I should just give up? Get sloppy?" As if she hasn't been enough already. Could there have been different tactics? Shepard sits up. "I won't admit defeat. Not to Cerberus, not to the Reapers not to anybody."

"You can bury your head in the sand if you like but it doesn't change anything," she sits up. "The harder you try to deny what's right in front of you—the more it will spread out of control." Liara takes her arm.

Shepard breathes too quickly. "I really hate the way you look at me sometimes." Liara shakes her head, not understanding. "Do you ever think that maybe you shouldn't have brought me back?"

"No," she says breathlessly as if the question were blasphemous. "Not for a moment. The world needs you." Shepard grits her jaw. "There are… you're important, to a lot of people."

"All of this is wrong. Everyone tried to warn me about Cerberus—"

"Cerberus has been wrong, no question. They may be our enemy now but without their resources you couldn't have stopped the Collectors. Shepard, you know that. Think clearly. The Alliance wasn't willing to help. No one was willing to help but they helped you. They worked for you." Shepard scoffs. "They brought you back."

" _How?_ " Shepard takes a breath. "You've seen what they do to the people they work with. The way they utilize technology and Reaper technology." What if she's a monster waiting to happen? How much medi-gel will patch her together before she isn't herself anymore? "What if— What if I didn't come back right?"

Liara blinks. "What do you mean?" She shakes her head. "You did."

"How do you know?"

"I know," she says surely.

Liara makes Shepard face her. Shepard is overwhelmed. Liara makes her feel safe and out of control. Shepard kisses her forcefully, desperately. What if the Illusive Man is right? What if controlling the Reapers is the only way to keep everyone alive? No. She won't give in to terror. She can't take comforts that will soften her, that will worry her on the battlefield. She pulls away and leaves without another word.

* * *

Liara's picture is buried at the bottom of Shepard's desk beneath a stack of papers. Traynor lifts the frame. The picture flickers. It's old. It's clearly Liara though she looks different. Younger. Traynor can't find the right word for it. She stares at it for too long. She traces the edges, focusing on Liara's eyes before returning it to where she found it.

Shepard asked her to find her dog tags. Traynor isn't sure  _why_ she needs them; she's onboard the Normandy and there are no operations underway. Still, Shepard has formed an attachment to her dog tags and so Traynor must find them. She searches Shepard's cabin for several minutes before spotting them beneath the desk, glinting dully in the low light.

She retrieves them and returns to the shuttle bay. Shepard's by the workbench, picking up handguns one at a time, tearing them apart, putting them back together, pulling the firing mechanism before clipping the safety back into place. Traynor watches her go through three guns before standing beside her, casually lifting the dog tags while looking at the weapons on the table. Traynor listens to the soft clink as Shepard takes them and slips the chain link over her neck. "I'd think you were the last person who'd need dog tags." Shepard glances at her, unimpressed. "Everyone knows who you are, for one, and two—who could ever take you down? You've taken down a reaper before."

"It's a good thing they always attack one at a time," Shepard picks up an assault rifle. She has dark circles under her eyes. Her mood, of late, has been poorer still. Traynor knows she has nightmares—but damned if she tells her why.

"You know what I mean," Traynor is afraid she's sulking.

"But you don't know what I mean. Have you ever been at war? Not like what you do on this ship. I mean out there, in the trenches. I've seen soldiers who are nothing but charred flesh, broken bones. And these," she jingles the dog tags, "are the only way of identifying them."

"Perhaps you should guard them more closely, then." Traynor retorts softly. She's getting defensive again and she hates it. Shepard looks at her. Traynor picks up a gun and is surprised by the weight. She's used to standard Alliance issue. The weapons Shepard has picked up along the way are anything but. She's picked up one of the heavier ones but wonders if there are lighter ones as well. Does it matter? She's no foot soldier. She puts it back on the table.

Shepard lifts the assault rifle to her line of sight, pointing at nothing in particular in the distance and then sets it down. "If you didn't use my shower maybe I wouldn't be so eager to just throw them anywhere. Who can resist joining you?"

"I'm sure some can." She smiles. "You're blaming me?"

"Why not? I get blamed for everything else. Torfan, destroying a mass relay…" she picks up a shotgun, frowns. "These are my original tags." Traynor looks at her questioningly. "After I got spaced by the Collectors… Liara held on to these. They were taken again when I was grounded. But I got them back."

"They leave all those little details out of the news reports." Traynor picks up a shotgun, turns it on its side, surprised by its weight before returning it. "Do you know that your death wasn't common knowledge among the Alliance? I found out about it only after you returned onboard." Traynor thought she'd done all the necessary reading on her commanding officer but the literature on the extranet isn't particularly telling. Shepard's an orphan. Some refer to her as the butcher of Torfan. She's N7. Career landmarks and little else. "I can't imagine what that's like. Dying." She'll never really know until it happens. It could be any day now.

"Being blown to pieces, you mean?" Shepard has another assault rifle in her hands. She lowers it each time she tries lifting it to eye level. "For someone who was nothing more than meat and tubes—I look pretty good, right?"

"Yeah," Traynor says weakly. She's unsure of where the conversation has gone. The ground seems far too delicate. All of this is beyond her scope. She is missing a good deal of history. None of it available on the extranet, most of it only known through peers, comrades, a group that she isn't a part of, a group that she can never be a part of. If Liara can't get close, what chance does she have?

"Can't say much what it was like. The dying," she clarifies, as if Traynor could forget. She sets the rifle down and moves around the table, "I was weightless. Floating in space. Then there wasn't any air in lungs." She shrugs. "I figure I died not long after. Woke up on a Cerberus operating table two years later. As if a day hadn't passed by." She glances at Traynor and smiles. "How's that for a happy ending?"

"And Liara found you?"

"In a manner of speaking." Shepard stops, rests her hands on the workbench and looks at Traynor. "What's with the twenty questions? I'm not much for talking."

"I've noticed. So has everyone else. You let your fists handle the diplomacy, isn't that right?" Traynor hates the acidic feeling in her stomach, the bile that threatens to rise. Is she arguing with Shepard? And why? Shepard has every right to be evasive. The questions are personal and invasive. Who'd want to talk about those things? She wouldn't. "Sorry," she mutters.

Shepard turns her back to the table, crosses her arms. "Something on your mind?" Traynor shakes her head. "Seems to me that something is bothering you."

"Not really. Not quite." Traynor sighs. She finds an open spot on the table and pulls herself up, sitting on the edge. "You know… I don't really know you, Shepard."

Shepard smirks. "You know me better than most."

"Right," she's still as Shepard moves to stand between her legs, hands at either side of her, lips brushing her ear, "and believe me—I'm not complaining. But… is it so terrible if we talk? I know you're going through a lot—but. I'm here for you." Shepard moves her lips to her neck. Traynor struggles to recall what it is that she'd been going on about. "And I know what this is. I know that. I'm fine with that," Shepard tries to kiss her but Traynor keeps her hands carefully against her chest. "But that's no reason we can't be friends." Shepard looks put out. "Hey, look at me." Shepard does, her eyes faraway though Traynor sees Shepard's conscious effort to make it so. "I don't…" Traynor thinks of a way to put matters. It's difficult. She doesn't want to come across as someone who doesn't understand limitations. "I don't want to be the specialist you fuck when you need to get away from it all."

Shepard's gaze wanders. Eventually it settles back on Traynor. "You aren't."

Traynor's brow creases. "We used to talk more," she smiles, melancholy, "we used to talk." And now, Traynor does the majority of her talking with Liara. Was Liara right? Does Shepard give the illusion of allowing others in only to push them away at the last moment? Is that what she's doing? "Am I not as endearing when I'm not tripping over my sentences?" Shepard laughs. "Or maybe you're angry that I'm using all the hot water?"

"I don't mind as long as you keep letting me hop in your showers."

"I'm afraid I can't release you from duty. You get all those hard to reach areas," she allows Shepard's brief kiss. "Look… mark this down on the calendars… but I'm serious." Shepard stands straight. "We can be friends. Right?"

"My friends have a nasty habit of dying."

"And I have a nasty habit of staying onboard the Normandy."

"Did you forget the conversation we had maybe two minutes ago? How do you think I got spaced? Did you see those shuttles on Earth? Or maybe the ones on Palaven? One of those Reaper beams can cut through this goddamn ship as if it were butter."

"Not with Joker piloting it—"

"Wake up, Specialist!" she takes Traynor's arm, hard, jarring her. "I am not the messiah! What the hell am I supposed to do against an army of those things? Millions of people are dying by the day, by the time we're finished with this, there might not be anyone left!" She pushes away from her. Traynor doesn't move. She's stunned by the outburst. She slides off the table but stands, useless, having forgotten how to walk. She finds her footing. She focuses on the elevator and sets it as her destination. Shepard grabs her. "Wait."

"Let go."

"Wait."

"What's the matter with you?" Traynor asks. Shepard's jaw is clenched, glaring at the floor. "Maybe you don't know what you're supposed to do but I do.  _First_  you're going to get everyone to come together  _and then_  you're going to use the Crucible to blow the Reapers to pieces. That's," she jabs Shepard's chest, "what you're supposed to do against an army of those things." She yanks her arm away from Shepard's, marching to the elevator but stopping short to look back at her. "I know you're stressed but so are all of us...! You're Commander Shepard—we're not even a tenth of the soldier that you are, and if you're going around, talking like this—"

"I'm sorry—" she says hoarsely.

"Suck it up, Commander." The tears are stinging her eyes, her voice growing wispy despite the anger and desperation, "Suck it up, like all the rest of us have to every moment of every day. If you can't keep it together how are we supposed to? You've been dead but you came back. Who else among us has that option? At least you don't have a family to worry about. All of us here, every day have to stand around grinning like idiots, pretending as if we're not waiting any second to hear that a loved one is dead. Or even worse, never hear anything at all and always have to wonder."

"I'm sorry," Shepard says again.

Traynor shivers, disappointed at her outburst. The anger and adrenaline dissipate, leaving her deflated. She lets a minute of silence pass. "I'm sorry, too. It isn't very fair of me to complain when you complain. When you're the only reason we've got a shot at this." She sighs and takes a seat on the floor by the elevator. Shepard joins her on the floor. "My nerves are shot. All of us are so tired." She takes a breath. "First I beat you up and then I shout at you. You must think I'm unbearable."

"You keep me in line."

"Yeah? All it does is leave my voice hoarse and my fingers tender. You really ought to throw me in the brig." Traynor says catching Shepard's brief smile. "Did I tell you how much my hand hurt after I socked you one? You must wonder how I passed basic training."

"You're tough, Traynor. I've seen other people fall apart under better circumstances. Admirals, Generals…you're not doing half-bad for a yeoman."

"I'm not doing half-bad for a yeoman." Traynor has to laugh. The secretary's of the military and held in little regard. And she's not doing bad for one. "Is that that mythical silver-tongue of yours?"

"Silver tongue," Shepard scoffs. "Yeah, that is a myth."

"Well…I wouldn't say completely." She reclines into Shepard's shoulder. Shepard wraps an arm around her waist. Traynor strokes Shepard's arm, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "I found Liara's picture in your desk. Are you in love with her?" She's surprised how little the possibility bothers her.

"I didn't know that picture was there," Shepard says without missing a beat.

"Well, it is. No matter how deeply you bury some things, they'll still be there."

"That picture's from a long time ago."

"You didn't answer my question." Traynor looks up at her.

Shepard looks back. "Because the answer doesn't change anything in the end. Not one goddamn thing."

Traynor watches her for a few moments longer before resting her head on her shoulder again. How can Shepard think that something like that wouldn't change anything? It would change everything for her. Her mind goes to Liara. She decides that Shepard must be in love with her. Who could know her and not be?

* * *

The Ardat-Yakshi monastery was a horror. The banshees created by reaper indoctrination fill Liara with unease. It's one thing to see husks, cannibals, marauders—but her own people… Has she been too self-involved? The asari often claim a stance of centrism, acceptance—but in the end, are they no more evolved than other species that only care for themselves first?

Poor Samara. Her situation must be unimaginable. To have three Ardat-Yakshi daughters and have lost two of them… And Falere. The poor girl. Liara mentally chides herself. Falere is older than she is, no mere girl—but what strength she showed! Staying behind in the monastery, living a life of solitude. Her willpower must be staggering. It is one thing to choose a life of solitude—but not having the choice, not having the option of company without being branded a monster and being hunted down is another matter entirely.

Liara shivers as she steps off the elevator. The mess hall is lively tonight; a group of soldiers are seated around the table, eating whatever meal has been prepared. Liara misses the cuisine on Illium. She had eaten alone more often than not, save for the occasional meal with Nyxeris. Pity that she was a double agent for the Shadow Broker. Nyxeris had made her choice and it had been wrong. Liara feels no guilt for resolving the situation.

She thinks of the woman she was before she chose to work with Cerberus. Would it have been better to stay innocent and naïve? No. If she had, Shepard would have no use for her. And the Illusive Man might have the Crucible plans. What hope would they have then?

Liara shakes the thoughts as soon as she hears Private Westmoreland call Samantha's name. The suit is followed by Private Campbell, who lifts her hand, snapping her fingers in Traynor's face. Liara meets Traynor's eyes, holds her gaze, smiles and moves on. As she walks away she hears Traynor exclaim an apology. Westmoreland and Campbell tease her. Liara hears no more when the doors to her cabin close.

She takes a shower, letting the water wash over her and trying to release all the tension in her body. She has developed a liking for battle, or maybe it's only the thrill of being alongside Shepard when she's focused and in charge. Seeing Shepard as vulnerable as she has recently is distressing. She wants to set everything aside and cater to her but she won't. How would that help any of them? And Shepard will always refuse her help, Shepard who wants to be so strong.

She dresses and exits the room, moving over to life support. Liara is aware that Thane used the room but despite the table and chairs that occupy it, it mostly goes unvisited. She walks further into the dark space, wondering if everything is as she left it before. It is. A chessboard sits in the middle of the table. There are two glasses and wine. The doors hiss open behind her and Liara turns to see Traynor. Liara smiles back at her and moves deeper into the room, Traynor follows.

"You know, I've never been in here," Traynor says looking around the bare space. She spots the table, the chessboard—her eyes light up. She looks at Liara with puzzled surprise. "What's this? Have you lured me here to play chess? Or… did you have another opponent in mind?" she moves to the table, smiling down at the chess set. "If so you'll have to let me have a go at them, too."

"Do you like it?"

"That's a mild way of putting it." She cocks her head and looks at Liara quizzically. Liara stands beside her but moves when Traynor's gaze has settled on her too long. She follows her every movement. Liara wonders if Traynor knows she's doing it. "How did you know I'd come here?"

"I didn't." She pauses, tilting her head in mild concession, "truthfully—I'd hoped you would make an excuse and come see me."

"Do you mean the one about you needing help untangling quantum entanglers?" Traynor's playful smile is almost a smirk. "That one? Most of the time I want to tear my hair out when people don't know what I do. But—I suppose sometimes it does have its uses." There's a beat. "So...congratulations. You've caught me," she laughs, her cheeks darkening. "I'm just one of the many who would follow you anywhere. You could take advantage of that, you know."

"Could I?" Liara brushes past her, hand consciously grazing the small of Traynor's back. She picks up the bottle of wine and opens it, pouring them both glasses. "I just might have to." Traynor is speechless. Liara is taken.

Traynor looks at the wine glass and back at Liara. Liara watches her. Traynor has a gulp of wine. "I understand you went to an Ardat-Yakshi monastery," she rambles. Liara settles a hand on her shoulder and guides her to a sitting on one of the chairs. Traynor looks dizzy. "That must have been… I did a fair bit of research while the team was down there. I—hadn't known much about Ardat-Yakshi before then. You…mentioned being pureblood before."

Liara takes a seat opposite of her. "Yes." She slides a white pawn forward. "So you see where the stigma originates. I'm not Ardat-Yakshi—," she flicks her eyes to Traynor whose fingertips are on a black pawn, "in case you were wondering."

"I don't know that it'd make any difference," Traynor moves her pawn. Her smile is chagrined. "Sorry—I suppose that's in poor taste." She looks at her.

Liara supposes that it is in poor taste—but if it were really so awful she wouldn't be flattered. "I'll just have to find some way to forgive you."

"Please do. I'm in need of much forgiving. It's a good thing though, that you aren't. An Ardat-Yakshi," she moves her chess pieces effortlessly but Liara sees the thought and strategy that goes into every play. "Whenever I'm not with you—I tell myself that the next time I am I won't say something awful. But I always do." She contemplates, a bishop in hand. "It's too bad about Rila. Falere must be so strong. Just think of it—to be born with a condition you have no control over—and be forced into exile over it. Diana said she'd lose sponsors if she did a story on it?"

"It's true. The Ardat-Yakshi are an embarrassment to asari. The reapers have already begun indoctrinating them, so no doubt they'll be visible to the world at large sooner or later. I believe the hope will be that they'll be regarded as no stranger than husks or cannibals, as indoctrinated asari and not Ardat-Yakshi. I'm not sure. Still, the indignity is too much. These asari segregated themselves, selflessly choosing a life of loneliness and seclusion instead of preying on others weaker than themselves and growing powerful. The reapers spit on their sacrifice." She puts down a piece and Traynor plucks it up, setting it to the side with an apologetic smile. "Rila was brave."

"As brave as Falere—if the report I read was accurate. I don't know if I could be so strong."

"I think so." Liara moves her knight. "Shepard is impressed with you. As am I." Traynor studies the board. "…How are things with the two of you?"

"As well as they can be," Traynor says. She looks at Liara a long time and back at the chessboard. "This is a conflict," she says softly. She shifts the rook. "Has she said something?"

"No." Liara looks at her glass of wine but ignores it. "But Shepard isn't exactly… open in that way." Liara thinks of the violence with which Shepard kissed her. "Sometimes I think she'll allow herself to be miserable… just to be. Safe?" She sees Traynor's eyebrows dip. "Not that I think anyone could be miserable with you."

"Oh, I don't know. I can be quite dogged when I have an objective in mind." She looks at her, holding a knight between her fingers. Whatever she's going to say, she doesn't. "I am a good escape," she says, staccato.

"No, you're more than that. Say what you will about Shepard—she doesn't…" Liara doesn't know what she means to say. It doesn't matter. "Let's not talk about her." She knows she brought her up but thinks the topic has exhausted itself—both of them, if she knows Shepard, are deadlocked when it comes to the commander, with neither capable of offering new insights.

She moves around the table and stoops beside Traynor. Her fingers slide over her hand, turning it, taking the knight. She sets it aside. "I've had enough of games." Liara says. "Haven't you?" Traynor's hand instinctively reaches for the piece. She stops herself. Liara wonders if it's a safety net for her. Does Traynor know her value outside of the Alliance, outside of games?

"It seems a shame to waste such a beautiful set-up," Traynor stands.

Liara gives her no room. "I don't think it has been wasted." The game was never on the eight-by-eight board.

Traynor looks at the table with the chessboard and the wine. Her fingertips, resting beside the fallen knight, tremble. "You make me so nervous." Liara waits. "Whenever I'm near you…" she releases a shaky breath. "I forget that the world is falling apart."

Liara brushes the dark strands from Traynor's face, smoothing it behind her ear. She has never seen anyone look so anxious, not even when Shepard has a gun to them. "We won't let it fall apart." She smiles and walks away from her, exiting life support.

Some of the soldiers still linger in the mess hall but Liara doesn't pay any attention to them. She returns to her room, to her monitors, to the isolation and the darkness. She stares at the door. Traynor enters moments later.

They wait.

"I did say I'd follow you anywhere," Traynor eventually says shakily, walking to her.

"I'd counted on that."

"Do you have any idea how hard it is from me to walk away from a physical chess set and wine?"

"About as hard as it was for me to walk away from you just a minute ago," their hands touch, fingers grazing, twining. Liara wonders if she should do this. The situation between Shepard, Traynor and herself is… Their lips come together before she can question herself further. The decision is made.

Their lips brush softly at first. She doesn't know which one of them shudders. They don't break contact, lips parting, kiss growing deeper. Liara can't tell her soft moan apart from Traynor's. They're not close enough. Traynor's arms circle her neck, digits sliding upward. Liara gently but methodically unbuckles Traynor's belt, pulls it away. They're both breathless. Liara drops the belt to the floor. Traynor eases the jacket from Liara's shoulders.

Liara wonders how long she has wanted this. She's delirious. Her flesh demands contact. Their kisses grow passionate, fingers pulling at each other's clothing, kissing any exposed skin, lips and teeth grazing collarbone and stomach, hands exploring tentatively, imploringly.

They don't rush. They take their time, relishing, worshipping until they're both stripped bare. Liara's hands light on Traynor's hips. "My legs are going to give out from under me," Traynor confesses direly.

Liara smiles. "Well. Better to find somewhere comfortable for you to land when they do. I'm not done yet." She guides her to the bed. Traynor's chest heaves, her lips parted, eyes fueled with desire—but something else. Something…more. Liara hadn't known she could have such an effect on anyone. It is a new and unexpected experience. Liara moves over her, hands gliding over her smooth skin. She caresses her face.

"Aren't we closer than this? Can't we be closer than this?"

"Yes," Liara murmurs. She kisses her neck, her mouth, eyes locking on hers.  _Embrace eternity._ Liara isn't sure if she whispers the words, if it's necessary to. They gasp. Their systems meld, washing over each other, memories glancing, shared, finding what's buried and unknown until they're flush and trembling, wrapped breathless in each other's arms.

Liara considers her arching, spiraling feelings. She considers Traynor's. Liara presses to her back. Traynor who is in no hurry to get away and doesn't fear intimacy. Traynor who had declared that love was impossible to find in the middle of war. Liara thinks of their shared thoughts during the meld and asks herself whether all of Traynor's sharp intakes of breath were from pleasure or if some were stark surprise at feelings, long hidden, come to light.

Liara wonders if there will be need for a new arrangement.


	6. Salvage

The quarians are firing on the Geth Dreadnought. Traynor is stunned into inaction. She looks around wildly at the soldiers around her who all talk amongst themselves. The quarians own admiral is on that ship. Shepard and Liara are on that ship. Traynor is dizzy. She opens a communication line to the War Room. Is this a mistake? "What are you doing?" her voice is higher pitched than normal, her words shaky. "Commander Shepard and Liara are on that vessel! Your admiral…!" Admittedly the first two are her focus but she doubts the quarians would be as moved.

"This is a prime opportunity to gain the tactical advantage," Admiral Xen's voice comes over the intercom, sounding irritated at being interrupted. "And it's one you humans would take in a heartbeat if the situation were reversed." Her tone is annoyingly explanatory, as if Traynor were a very dumb child with little capability for understanding.

"They went in there to help you," Traynor fires back breathlessly.

"This conversation is over," Admiral Han'Gerrel tells her curtly. "All fleets continue fire!"

The line cuts off. Traynor can't breathe. Can she go in there and cut their suits? It would be wrong, sure, but so is firing upon your allies. It might buy them time and then—She looks to her monitors watching as the Geth Dreadnought is ripped apart. Shepard and Liara are… she takes a deep breath and tries to steady herself. If Commander Shepard and Liara die… no. She can't think so selfishly. Worst still is what it would mean for their war against the reapers. Can anyone stop the reapers without their help…? What about Tali'Zorah? Hadn't she been part of the team to stop Saren and the Collectors? How can Admiral Han'Gerrel do this? How can Admiral Raan let him?

She opens a line of communication to the cockpit. "Joker," Traynor barely chokes out the name. If anyone can stop this massacre, if anyone can find a way, a trick—

"I'm on it…!" Joker says, "come on, come on, come on…! Yeah!" Traynor wishes she could see what he sees but is satisfied with the enthusiasm of sureness of his voice. "Got it! We've got you, Commander! Ready for pick up." He sighs with relief. "Breathe easy, Traynor. The quarians weren't able to blow up the people who could save them. Guess it's their lucky day," he adds dryly.

"Thank you, Joker," Traynor says. She looks down, sees the incoming shuttle on her monitor but still can't breathe easy, still can't make her heart stop pounding. It was too close.

* * *

 

Traynor moves with a light step when she hasn't been explicitly invited to Shepard's cabin. She carries a six-pack of beer, holding it delicately in both hands. Traynor takes a breath. "Commander? Erm. It's… Specialist Traynor. Are you busy?" It's easier to present herself as a soldier. Even if she has the beer that renders her unfit for duty. She hears Shepard's muffled voice tell her to enter and she does.

Shepard's room is always darker than it should be. She looks at the barren fish tank and back to Shepard. Does Shepard not like fish? Perhaps… she has more important things to consider? Shepard sits on the bed still suited in her armor. The helmet sits at her feet. Her face glistens with sweat. She looks up at Traynor. Traynor can't read her try as she might.

"I thought you could use a beer. In fact, I thought you could use six." She lifts it and is rewarded with a small smile from Shepard. "It's not every day the quarians try to blow you up."

"Only when we happen to meet." She nods beside her and Traynor takes a seat. She pulls a beer free and hands it to Shepard. Shepard pops the can open and offers it to Traynor. "Care to join me?"

"Don't mind if I do, Commander." She takes the beer and has a sip. It's still frosty. "I bought this on the Citadel ages ago and quite frankly forgot about it. I hid it behind the hummus," she whispers and doesn't know why she does, "and it remained untouched." Shepard opens her can and takes a long drink that continues until she finishes the beer. She crushes the can and throws it in a nearby waste bin. "Thirsty?"

"You could say that." She takes another beer and pops it open, fixating on the can.

"You know, I nearly went into the War Room and undid one of Admiral Han'Gerrel's hoses. I know it's not very nice but… I suppose I'm a tad protective of my comrades and… I think you've rubbed off on me."

"Do you mind?"

"Oh, never." Traynor takes another quick drink, her cheeks heating again. "Are you all right? My heart nearly stopped just watching it. I can't imagine being there."

There's a moment of silence. "Yeah, it was fine. We made it. All of us. That's what matters. Gave the Admiral my regards," she raises a fist. "Twice." Traynor smiles. "Gotta say, I wish the quarians would stop backing themselves into a corner. They're screwing more than just themselves when they throw themselves against the geth." She sighs and takes another breath. "I thought Tali might be a good influence but if they're willing to throw her away…"

"They're desperate."

"Yeah."

"What you do every day… it makes me proud to be in the Alliance, to serve under you." Traynor continues despite Shepard's smirk. "You make me feel like… I can be more than I am. That I can find courage. I don't really know how to say it."

"You're doing fine." She wipes her eyes.

"Tired?" Traynor asks. Shepard gives a small nod. "Sleeping better?" Shepard shakes her head. "Maybe a few more beers will help. You could stand to relax, Commander. I'm hard pressed to think of anyone who deserves relaxation more than you." Her mind flickers briefly to Liara. But Liara sleeps. Sometimes.

"I get by okay," she says.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you last time." Traynor says grimacing. Shepard answers her questions but does so without much inflection. Maybe she's only tired or uninterested in talking to her. She hopes so. "In the shuttle bay," she says when Shepard looks at her. "You can talk to me. You're allowed to… I know it's hard. But I see now why people say what they do about you. You'll save us, Shepard. You can do anything."

"You need to catch up," Shepard lifts the beer and has a drink. She finishes it and throws it to the trash. It bounces off the wall and falls in. "The thing with the Dreadnought… guess we worried you."

Traynor has a drink. "It's part of the job. Don't worry. I won't fall apart in CIC. I promise."

"Saw Liara scribbling something to you on the shuttle. On the omni-tool. The two of you are friends."

Traynor had typed something quickly to her when Joker told her the good news of their recovery. She hardly remembers what she wrote. Something like 'glad you're okay.' Liara's response had been just as brief but affirmative. Yes. The two of them are friends. Even if they're friends…who are closer than most friends are. Traynor frowns gently. She remembers her mouth pressed against Liara's. Liara's body is strong but soft. Shepard's is toned and muscled. Should she know these things? Is she making a comparison? She doesn't know why she feels guilty. She didn't then. She's done nothing wrong. Perhaps it's because she's never done anything like this. It's difficult to divide her attention between them. Should she be with Liara now? Should Shepard be with her? They're so separated. Needlessly, it seems.

"Samantha?" Shepard's gloved hand touches her face. Traynor looks at her. "Everything okay?" Traynor nods absently. "This is the hard part of war. I have it easier than you do. Sometimes I think all the worrying for someone else's skin takes a whole different kind of courage."

"Oh, I don't know. Facing a reaper head on—" she shudders. "You're doing great. If you could talk the reapers into going away," she smirks, "grand. But since we live in reality, I'll encourage you and your boomstick to take them down. And a gun. A great big gun."

"I'll see what I can do." Shepard says, her body relaxing. Traynor is happy for it. Some of the worry has eased away from her features, replaced by… Traynor isn't sure. It isn't an expression she recognizes on her. Relaxed but tense...maybe tense isn't the word. Traynor picks up another beer and offers it to her. Shepard takes it but sets it aside. "I've had enough for now."

"Time for some peace and quiet? Ooh, perhaps a game of chess? Maybe we should go prank the admirals? Tell them we've decided on a geth fleet instead."

"I'll have to think on that one. For now, I have other things I'd rather be doing."

"Oh, I'm a thing now, am I?"

Shepard laughs softly. "Get over here," the husky command and the tone of the request, coupled with the ardent kiss makes Traynor feel inexperienced and hopelessly in love in one. Shepard's armor is cold and hard but feverish beneath her touch. "Help me get this off," Shepard breathes hotly in her ear.

Traynor's fingers search, fumbling, unused to the armor, finding the latches but unaware of how to remove it.

* * *

Shepard is intent on getting her killed. The quarians are no help. Liara understands the tactic behind blowing up the dreadnought and it is one that she herself might have employed at another time in an attempt to get the Shadow Broker. However, Liara would argue that Shepard is far more critical to the war against the Reapers than the largest fleet in the galaxy. The state of a great deal of those ships does not inspire much hope.

Regardless, the situation is behind them. Only several hours at this point but it is past and there's no sense in holding on to grudges. This is different than the situation with the Shadow Broker and Feron. The Shadow Broker wanted to trade Shepard's body to the Collectors. Simply trying to blow her up is more forgivable, more permissible, common, decent.

Her thoughts are in a flurry. She hardly notices when the door to the room opens. Nevermind how her body aches from the hits she took while fighting the legions of geth. She smiles absently, her fingers falling on the keys like rain until she notices Traynor's presence. Her typing slows and then stops altogether.

"If you can smile at a time like this then I'll believe you can do anything." Traynor says, her hands twined behind her back. Liara wonders if she's nervous. Her eyes skirt furtively around the room before settling on Liara. Traynor blushes. Liara doesn't know the reason why but her smile grows for it. "I imagine you're quite busy—but when aren't you? Anyway, I wanted to look at you. Really look at you… and… and then I can be on my way."

"So soon?"

Traynor fidgets and offers a nervous, lopsided smile before tucking a strand of hair behind her ears. "I'm in no particular hurry. I thought you might like…" she pauses, considers. "I wasn't sure what I thought you'd like. I had wondered… if you'd be terribly opposed to company. Or perhaps only opposed because… I haven't come sooner?"

Liara considers the situation Traynor is in. Samantha doesn't strike her as a particularly promiscuous woman with a tendency to get herself involved in many relationships. If she reads her properly, this is her first foray into such experiences.

"Were you worried about me?" Liara asks. And perhaps unsure of what woman to see first? "It's all right. Any time away from here is time away from the network. There were some details of the dreadnought I wanted to add immediately… but I have some free time now." She steps away from the computer. "Are you all right?" Traynor's expression asks the question. "When I first joined the Normandy years ago I often stayed behind. I would worry myself sick about Shepard. I suppose… you have twice as many people to worry about?"

"Oh." She smiles nervously, "yes." And then frowns. "Erm—about Tali'Zorah as well…" she waves her away, paces and stops in front of Liara. "I won't complain." Not aloud, Liara suspects. "I'm just glad the both of you made it safely back onboard.

I think I aged ten years in just the last few hours. Perhaps I should start taking a sedative before the two of you go out."

"You look fine to me." She steps closer to Traynor and takes her hands, giving them a gentle squeeze. "Don't fret, Samantha." Traynor stares down at her hands. "Have faith in us."

"Us…? Oh!" she laughs nervously. "You and Shepard. Of course. I do," she nods, "I do." She pulls her hands away and wanders around the room nervously. Liara watches her. "I only wish I could do more. It feels like every day I see you and Commander Shepard do something crazier than the day before. And—maybe I don't want to go bomb diving but I feel like I  _could_  if the commander ordered me to. That's something, isn't it?"

Liara smiles. "Shepard has that effect on people. But I believe we would both rather keep you by a computer terminal than have you on the battlefield beside us."

"Would I be too distracting?" she asks, some of her nervousness slipping away and the false cocquettishness springing forward. "I've been told I have a nice bum."

"Bum?" Liara blinks. "Ah, yes. I believe that is an appropriate assessment." She moves behind her, circling her arms around her waist. Liara feels the heat from Traynor's face and smiles. She lowers her voice. "Are you still so nervous around me?"

"I can't help it," she squeaks out. "Teasing me about it isn't going to make it go away any faster," she adds with a small pout. Liara smiles. "I didn't know asari were supposed to be this charming."

Liara blinks. "Really? That's remarkable. I've been told more often than not that I'm awkward and not a very good representation of my species, lacking the usual refinement and finesse."

"Who said that? I'll kick their ass."

"The Commander's rubbing off on you." Liara says so unthinkingly, knowing how apt Shepard is to throw around threats. Traynor's eyes narrow somewhat. She's overthinking things. Liara redirects her. "What traits have you picked up from me?"

"From you?" Traynor considers the question, though apparently not considering freeing herself from Liara's arms. Her hands settle over Liara's as she cocks her head somewhat. "I'm not sure. There are a few tricks I could learn from you, filters and analysis, very helpful things. Mostly, I'd like to learn how to…  _smolder_  the way that you do."

"What?" Liara considers Traynor carefully, unsure of what she's talking about, "what do you mean?"

"You're joking!" Traynor shifts, turning her head to look at her. "You have that way about you—when you look at me…" she studies Liara. "Or maybe it's just the way you look at me that makes me feel like I'm on fire."

"If you're trying to make me blush… I might have to turn the tables on you."

Traynor laughs softly. "You talk as if I'd be capable of offering any resistance."

"Oh? Why don't we test that theory?" she lifts her fingers to Traynor's chin, turning it until their mouths come together in a soft and languid kiss. They separate long enough for Traynor to turn and face her, kissing again, just as gingerly. Liara doesn't recall when she last felt a pleasant sort of delirium. Perhaps when she last got slammed on the temple in the middle of some now forgotten battle. Liara slowly pulls away from her, her fingertips lingering on Traynor's, her own manner of beckoning. She sits on the bed and moments later Traynor joins her. "It's good to see Tali again."

"In a manner of speaking." Traynor comments idly. Liara looks at her. "Well… what does she look like, really?" Liara smiles. "What? Simple curiosity…"

"Are you on the lookout for another pretty girl?"

Traynor pouts again. "You're more than pretty enough. Admittedly… I would kill to have hips like that." She traces her own hips before twining her hands above her head and settling back on the bed. Liara thinks of Shepard, ignores her, and lies on her side to watch Traynor. "That thing you did…  _We_  did… the… embrace eternity thing… What was that, exactly?"

"Was it too much?" Liara isn't an expert on the experience herself. She has melded her mind with Shepard's in the past, back when the Prothean beacon and the ciphers were a factor. But no matter the heated kisses they shared in that Normandy that no longer exists, Shepard never allowed them more. Liara remembers clearly Shepard's rejection of her the night before Ilos. She frowns.

"What are you thinking about?" Traynor asks. Liara looks back at her. "I've never seen you look so serious. Was it bad?" her voice is soft, uncertain. Liara kisses her in response. Traynor smiles faintly before turning on her side to look at her. "You know… if humans could do that, everything would be so much easier. I doubt there'd be as much war."

"Make love and meld, not war?" she asks wryly. "I could get behind that."

"It sounds a bit silly, doesn't it? But being able to share something like that and explore one another in that way… it was all so… wonderfully beautiful. And touching." Traynor says thoughtfully.

"Touching?" Liara trails a finger along Traynor's thigh.

Traynor smirks. "I'm trying to be profound, here. You asari get a thousand years worth of that—give me the one minute."

"We get about six hundred years on average, actually. You forget the two to four hundred we spend stripping."

"Have I missed that part of your life yet? And if I haven't—you'll let me know, won't you?"

Liara laughs. "Oh, yes. I'm sure the news networks would love that. Matriarch Benezia's daughter turns to stripping when she realizes most of the Prothean study she dedicated most of her life to has yielded few accurate results." She sighs dispiritedly. "How embarrassing. There are some people who would love that," she says trying to keep the bitterness from her voice.

"I'm sure more than a few people would love a strip show from you."

"And now you're the one ruining my profound moment." She stops, smiles. Traynor swings her legs gently off the edge of the bed. Liara covers a hand over her heart and feels it drum beneath her. "Maybe we could both put on a private show…?" she leans down. Liara sees a moment of hesitation. "Shepard knows, if that's why you're worried." Traynor sits up. "It's impossible to keep things quiet on a vessel this size and with a big-mouthed AI," Liara says irritably to the ceiling, "but more than that, Shepard is attentive…and you, Samantha, are an open book."

Traynor is quiet for several minutes, forehead scrunched thoughtfully. "What does it mean for all of us?"

"I can't say I've had time to sit down and diagram it," it's only mildly a joke. Liara runs data on everything these things. If she could run it on relationships no doubt she would. She considers. "Aren't we all just living day to day now? We all care for each other, support each other. Isn't that enough? Isn't that what matters?"

"That  _sounds_  right…"

"But…?"

Traynor shakes her head and shrugs. "I don't know. I suppose I never expected any of this. It seems like only yesterday Westmoreland and Campbell were teasing me about the two of you. If they had ever truly suggested… I would have thought they were crazy."

"Mh. Well…I believe they've become too…occupied," Liara says with a mild smirk, "to further tease you. But I would not mind terribly filling that role." Traynor allows a small smile but she sees the worry. Liara considers that despite her relative youth, Traynor's considerable youth must be a terrible and confusing burden. Liara cups her face. "I know what you're thinking. When we were together, when we melded… I was filled with pure light and feeling. It was wonderful and good. I know your mind, Samantha. You know mine. This isn't wrong."

Traynor takes slow, deep breaths. "Sometimes I wonder how I got to be here. With… I'm a comm specialist. I work in labs with people in labcoats. I don't have these sort of…adventures."

"Oh, is that what you're calling it? Adventures?" she moves closer to her, drawing Traynor near, pulling her by her shirt. She sees the dilemma on her features. She worries when no one else does. "I used to wear a labcoat, too."

"There you are teasing me again," she mutters.

"I've no intention of stopping just yet. Relax, Samantha." Their lips touch and everything else disappears.

* * *

_Shepard Commander._

Shepard lifts the M-6 Carnifex and shoots off six-rounds that tear through the shooting target. Shepard stares at the bullet holes, cutting through the head and heart of the figure. Shepard tightens her jaw and reloads the weapon. The targets come up again and once again she dispenses six bullets. The head and the heart, the head and the heart, the head and the heart.

Legion was a goddamn geth. He didn't have a head or a heart.

_Shepard Commander._

So what if he'd saved their lives on the geth dreadnought? So what if he'd helped her stop the Collectors? He was synthetic. Just like the goddamn reapers. He was hardware and software. Nothing more.

_Shepard Commander._

The first shot had been self-defense. The second shot, habit. She's used to finishing the job. She's used to merciless efficiency. He'd tried to kill her, damn it. Was she supposed to let the quarians die? Was she supposed to let them get slaughtered to what—prove a point? So what if the quarians had chased the geth? So what if the geth were only defending themselves? Was she supposed to let Tali's people die?

He was technology. Quarian technology. With reaper code. He was nothing. Shepard's jaw trembles. She pulls the trigger of the gun in quick-fire succession. What had the last shot been? To ease her guilt? How can a machine look at her like that? Look at her like… she's hurt it… Killed it… You can't kill what isn't alive. A clip falls away from the gun, barrel still smoking.

She remembers his voice so clearly.

_Does this unit have a soul?_

Shepard slams the gun down on the table and exhales slowly, closing her eyes. She locks her arms on the edge of the table. When she hears the door straighten behind her she turns, not expecting any other Spectre, not ever having run into one. It isn't a Spectre. "You're not supposed to be here," Shepard tells Liara. She picks up the Carnifex again and pops another clip into it, reassured by its weight and power.

"I didn't think you'd need to spend much time here." Liara looks at the targets. "You're an impeccable shot."

"Damn right," Shepard grins, "ask Garrus. We had a little shooting contest not too long ago. Never thought I'd see a turian so close to tears." She checks the gun absently and fires several rounds into the targets, not bothering to take careful shots. Yet every strike hits its mark. She's a professional butcher.

"Garrus didn't know where you were. I suspect he may have been trying to be considerate but I detected some activity on the Spectre terminal and tracked you here." She comes to stand beside Shepard and looks at the array of guns on the table.

"Have I ever told you that this Shadow Broker gig of yours can get pretty terrifying?" Shepard assumes that Liara knows everything without Shepard ever having to tell her. Liara spies more than she ought to, all in the pursuit of some greater purpose. She isn't sure that Liara doesn't abuse the power. She mildly recalls their conversations of insults on the way to the lair of the Shadow Broker. Liara knew a little too much about everything that wasn't any of her business.

Liara laughs softly. "Me, terrifying? That shouldn't be any problem for you. You've killed how many reapers now?" Liara looks at her. Shepard smirks. "You must be starting to think you're invincible."

"Sure," Shepard leans into the railing that separates them from the shooting gallery, "kill enough things and soon enough you'll run out of things that can kill you. I'm pretty good at killing things, in case you hadn't noticed."

"It's hard to miss. We're lucky to have you."

Shepard shrugs. "You pick up a few tricks when you're always knee-deep in shit." She reloads the gun and empties another clip in the center of the head of the target. Liara looks at the target and then at her. "You've got something to say. Go ahead and say it." She's known Liara for this long. She knows her way. Especially these days. She doesn't seek her out unless she has questions or messages to deliver.

"How are you?"

"Lot of people asking that these days." She reloads the gun again and empties another clip into the heart of the target piece. "I'm peachy."  _Does this unit have a soul?_ "No."

"No? You're not okay?"

Shepard blinks and looks at her. She shakes her head. "Did it ever occur to you that I came here to get away, T'soni?"

"Of course. But I'm nosy and I like to meddle." She reclines against the railing beside her. "You've been reclusive since Rannoch. And you've been purchasing more alcohol than usual for your personal collection." Shepard frowns. "I'm worried."

"Mind your own business."

"You are my business. You're more than that," she looks at her. "You have to take care of yourself."

"I am. I'm fine. I don't need you constantly nagging me."

"You lost a friend."

"I destroyed a piece of scrap metal." She sets the gun aside.

"You've lost many friends. How did you know which one I was referring to?" Liara looks at her when Shepard turns away. "You're allowed to mourn Legion."

"I don't mourn the things I kill." Shepard says. Liara looks at her skeptically. "Being friends with a geth is crazy. I used him as needed. Technology is here to serve us." She wipes at her forehead, it's damp with perspiration despite the cold she feels. "We have the quarian fleet on our side now. To hell with everything else."

"Is that how you really feel?"

"'Feel'?" She scoffs. "Feelings don't factor into any of this. I have a job to do. I have a war to win. I don't give a damn how I get there. It only matters  _that_  I get there." She looks at Liara who returns her gaze steadily. "Give it to me." Liara frowns. "Whatever you're thinking. Whatever your complaint." Shepard seizes her shoulders, hard. "Say it and then get out." Liara's eyes chill. "I'm not interested in talking."

"What  _are_  you interested in?"

Shepard lets her eyes do the communicating. She thinks of walking the Normandy in the middle of the night when she can't sleep. Traynor and Liara, the way they are when they're in the mess hall and no one else is around. They have conversations without opening their mouths. They have exchanges in glances, in kisses.

" _What's melding like?"_ Shepard asked Traynor. Shepard knows. She experienced it with The Consort. A stranger. She experienced it again with Liara, an exchange of information and nothing more. The question had embarrassed Traynor who'd stared into Shepard's empty fish tanks. " _It's like baring your soul in its entirety with no reservations. Minds touching…searching, sharing… It's the most intimate thing that I know_.  _It's…wonderful."_

It sounds awful. Shepard's experiences haven't been exactly like that. Nor does she want them to be. Her throat is parched. "I want you," she tells Liara. "Your body and your face," she breathes the last, fingers trailing along Liara's cheeks. "Nothing more."  _Does this unit have a soul?_ "I don't want you in my head." What if Liara got lost and could never get out? What if her mind is nothing but a mesh labyrinth? "I don't want you in my thoughts."

"What are you so afraid of?"

"I told you, I'm not afraid."

"You're not afraid… you're terrified."

Shepard glowers. "I'm not a lab rat. I'm not data." She says the words much louder than she means to, her voice echoing in the enclosed space. "I'm not more research for you to dissect. I'm not a goddamn information terminal. I don't want you digging around in my head." What if all Liara sees is circuitry, hubs, nodes?

_Does this unit have a soul?_

The thought makes her anxious. Would melding even work with someone like her? It's been years. What is she made of, exactly? Shepard releases Liara suddenly, a frown darkening her features further.

"You're none of those things. You're human. Shepard… trust me. Trust yourself. You're more than this. I know you have doubts. I wish you'd let me help you. You're not alone. You have Samantha. You have me."

"Then let me have you. For once let me have you on my terms." Shepard is aware of how selfish her request is but doesn't redact it. It isn't that she doesn't want to be involved with Liara—she doesn't know how to without compromising everything.

"You've never wanted me. You've always been the one to—put a stop to things."

"Yeah." It's easier than explaining.

"And what you want is… my body? A shell?" Liara asks. Shepard hates the earnest way she looks at her. The Shadow Broker is gone for a moment, even if her words are cutting. She remembers when Liara wouldn't question her. Did she prefer that woman? No. "Should I keep my mouth shut, too? Keep my opinion to myself?" Liara asks. "And if I were to give my body to you, what happens next?" Shepard says nothing because she doesn't know the answer. "Well? Answer me."

"I don't know." She frowns. "Why are you pushing? You're with Samantha."

"As are you. Samantha has nothing to do with us," she indicates the two of them. "I don't understand you. You have people around you who care for you. Samantha loves you." Shepard doesn't believe it. Traynor has said nothing about that. Traynor should know better than that. Liara hesitates, biting her lower lip as if she's said something that she shouldn't have. "I…" she drops her eyes. She takes a breath. "I know you feel something, Shepard. For both of us. I see it in you from time to time. And then… and then you let it flicker out and die. You try to kill it or you put it away."

Shepard grits her jaw. She thinks of Traynor and buries her. She looks away from Liara. "So that's a 'no'. You're missing a hell of a show. Ask Samantha." She turns away from her and lays her hand flat on the table. Her fingers shake.

Liara shakes her head. "This is ridiculous, Shepard. I didn't come here to barter. I trade information. Nothing else." Shepard doesn't look at her. "Is it so easy for you to ask someone to bare themselves to you and give them nothing?"

Shepard doesn't speak. Liara leaves. Shepard makes herself go still, until her fingers steady. She picks up the gun.

_Does this unit have a soul_?

Shepard points at the target and pulls the trigger. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

* * *

Shepard stares into the empty fish tank of her cabin. She's never seen a use for it. She remembers yeoman Kelly Chambers offering to get her fish. That woman tried too hard. Then she was turned to goo in a Collector pod. Yeomen die. It's nothing to fixate on. She thinks of Traynor and shudders.

Shepard turns music on, the loud kind with a heavy, pulsing bassline. Electronic and mindless, incapable of producing any emotional effect. She bobs her head to the music and picks up a bottle of scotch from her 'personal collection' and pours herself a quarter glass. She finishes it in a gulp without meaning to. Pours herself another, lifts it to her lips and sets it down, walking away.

She digs through her desk and finds a rubber ball. She'd picked it up on the Citadel sometime after the invasion on Earth. She couldn't think of any good reason why, she still can't, except the idea of a ghost, of some kid blown up on shuttle, young enough to play with it.

_You can't help me._

She bounces the ball off the fish tank, off the walls, catching it before chucking it again. She hears the doors to the cabin open and she whips to the side, flinging the ball with violence. It stops just short in the air. Liara regards it curiously, then at Shepard before letting it fall gently into her hand.

Shepard frowns and holds her hand out for the ball. Liara doesn't throw it. Shepard walks to her and snatches it away. Liara follows her movements as Shepard stuffs it back into a desk drawer, picking up her drink again. "What do you want?"

Liara goes to the music station and turns the music down. "That." She nods her head at the music. "We could hear it on the third floor."

"There a reason why you couldn't just tell me this on the intercom?"

"I tried," she says, mildly exasperated. "You couldn't hear me."

"It's fixed now." Shepard looks at the door, her meaning clear. Liara doesn't look to be in any hurry. "Was there something else?" She takes a drink when Liara doesn't answer. She finishes it and refills it. Liara disapproves. "I don't need a lecture."

"It was not my intention to give you one," but she looks away from her as she says so. Maybe Liara's still a bad liar. Good. Liara moves around the room. Looks into the fish tank and back to Shepard. "I suspect that I…have not been very understanding. I imagine at times I have sounded as if I do not believe you to be very capable. But I do, Shepard. I do. I know this war can't be won without you. Maybe sometimes I worry too much… Expect too much of you. I want you to be strong and soft. Such contradictions… can be difficult."

Shepard extends the drink to Liara who declines it. Shepard listens to Liara but doesn't want for any of what she says to sink in. She doesn't want to let her guard down for even a moment. "Don't worry about it."

"I can't help it. I'm sure you must know that by now. As well as my tendency to be… somewhat nosy." Liara's cheeks color. Shepard smiles without knowing it. "I have…never been able to forget about you, Shepard. In some ways I haven't been able to let you go. But I don't regret that. I know I've made things difficult for you with Cerberus… and it's a possibility that all the misunderstandings you've had with the Alliance and other members of the galactic community stem from my actions." She takes a breath. "I am sorry for that. I am sorry for a lot. Anyway… that's what I came here to say."

"What about the music?"

Liara smiles. "That too."

"Stay." Shepard says when Liara reaches the cabin door to exit. Liara doesn't immediately turn to her. Shepard crosses the two small steps up to the entry of the cabin. She sets the drink on her desk and goes to her. Liara waits. Shepard isn't sure why she asked her to stay. She'd like to bed her but she isn't holding her breath. Liara deserves more than just a fuck. So does Traynor. Shit. "Things haven't been right with us for years. I'm as much to blame for that as you are. More." She frowns.

"You've said you needed focus."

"I do. I never lied about that."

"Then… Samantha?"

"I don't know."

"And me?"

"… I don't know." She runs a hand through her hair and walks away from Liara. "I've told you. I've told her. My feelings don't matter."

"Do ours?" Liara asks. Shepard rubs her forehead. Liara goes to her. She pulls Shepard's hand from her forehead. "Look at me. Look at me without looking away, without getting mean, without running." Shepard looks at her. Liara's eyes make Shepard weak. They make her want to submit and risk. She tries to look away but Liara takes her face in her hands. "I know what you feel. You don't have to be afraid to feel it. Your feelings do matter." Shepard exhales shakily. "Shepard…" Shepard tries to push her away, physically, the only option remaining to her. Liara doesn't let her. She holds her fiercely, she holds her with biotics, with her thrall. With her eyes. "I love you. Just…just let me love you."

Shepard closes her eyes. "I don't know how to do that." She takes Liara's wrists. "When the time comes… I can't promise that it won't happen again." She remembers when she sent her away before Ilos. It was the right decision. It will always be the right decision. But Liara's face still haunts her. "You make it hard to focus. I should be a better soldier, maybe. I don't know…"

"Open your eyes." Liara says. Shepard does. "You're the one who's always told me that we can't allow fear to rule us. Compromise us. Asari believe that it's important to treasure every moment. And maybe in the end Shepard… you'll push me away again. But in the meantime, shouldn't we try? In these dark days…shouldn't we allow some happiness? Some companionship?" she strokes her face. Shepard bows her head. Liara brushes a kiss to her hair. "We can't forget what we're fighting for. But we can try to forget everything that hurts and the misery. If only for a little while. Otherwise you forget why life is worth living."

She's been lost for so long. She's been disoriented, going in so many directions. She has stumbled and lost in the darkness. She has failed time after time. Wouldn't it be best to leave others out of it? Wouldn't it be better to at least spare Samantha and Liara? "I don't know what to do."

"Of course you do. For starters…kiss me."

It is with nervous and breathless anticipation that she does.


	7. Three

A/N: My old ass notes from fanfiction.net are missing. I assume nobody cares about this in the reposting. Agh! Reading this again makes me want to do more stories with them...

* * *

Thessia falls.

* * *

Shepard returns to the Normandy, hollowed. She reports to Admiral Hackett and Councilor Irissa in the War Room.

Liara passes through, shellshocked. She steps into the elevator and with great deliberation pushes the button to take her to the deck below.

Traynor remains on her station in CIC, paralyzed.

* * *

Traynor enters Liara's room.

Shepard faces a computer terminal, glowering. Her fists are clenched tightly. Traynor looks closer. Her eyes are glassy. A hand to her shoulder provokes no reaction except a slight closing of her eyes. Traynor takes her arm, feels the muscle beneath her touch as hard and tense as the woman before her. "Shepard…" She doesn't look at her. Traynor circles her arms around her, pressing to her back. "You did everything you could," she whispers.

Shepard's body tenses more. Traynor doubts it has anything to do with the room they're in, from the way they're standing. Shepard's voice is low but angry. "Tell that to Liara or the countless asari lost by the minute. The people of Thessia sacrificed their lives for nothing…!" she hisses.

"It will be all right," she says shakily.

"We can't afford any mistakes, we haven't been able to afford any mistakes and we just lost the key to the goddamn Catalyst." Shepard rips away from her. She begins to move away but Traynor catches her wrist. Traynor mouths 'don't go'. Shepard looks at her, looks over to the bed.

Traynor notices Shepard's fist, purple, hot and red, bruised. It wasn't like that earlier. She releases her.

Shepard stays. She paces. Now and then she looks towards Liara.

Liara is collapsed on the bed. The pillow is soaked in tears. Traynor doesn't know what conversation Liara and Shepard had prior to her arrival or if one was had. Her shoulders tremble. She still cries softly. Traynor imagines this is as helpless as Shepard must feel—coupled with any guilt. Traynor would hate to be in her position, in any of their positions.

She can't joke her way out of this. She sits beside her on the bed. Unlike Shepard, Liara does not appear to feel shamed by emotion. Data pads are scattered along the bed. Liara likely tried to focus on something else, anything else before succumbing to grief. Traynor picks them up and sets them aside. Traynor touches her back. Liara's face is half-hidden by the pillow.

"I can't say that I know what you're feeling." Traynor says. Despite the hit Earth took, it was not so monumental, so shattering as the loss and defeat that Thessia has suffered. The people on Earth are still fighting, still have a chance to recover the planet. "And it will probably be a long time until any of this feels better. But I'm here for you." She lifts her head and looks at Shepard who has slowed in her pacing. "Shepard's here for you." She leans in closer and lowers her voice. "I love you. We love you." It's the first time she's said the words. She's speaking for Shepard—but she doesn't question its truth for a moment. She's too sundered to feel any bashfulness for the words.

Liara lifts her teary face to look at her. Traynor's smile is watery. She lifts her hand to her shoulder. "I don't expect that to fix anything," she says softly, "but… I wanted to tell you." Only now does she feel nervous.

Shepard joins them, sitting on the other side of the bed by Liara. Shepard looks miserable and angry. Traynor looks at them. "I…have a few ideas of where I might look—a way to track Kai-Leng down. It will take a little time and maybe it will amount to nothing," Traynor tells them both, "but this isn't over yet."

"Damn right it isn't," Shepard says gruffly. Liara sniffles and wipes her face. Shepard exhales tiredly, wrapping an arm around Liara and pulling her close. Traynor smiles faintly. "Kai-Leng and the Illusive Man won't get away with this, T'soni. It wasn't all for nothing."

"I am sorry—I've been," Liara takes an unsteady breath. "I just never thought it could happen to Thessia. Can you believe it? I, of all, people…"

"You've been through a lot," Traynor takes Liara's hand and squeezes it. Liara curls her fingers around hers. Shepard watches them, unreadable. "Both of you," she adds. Traynor's grip loosens. She knows that Liara and Shepard have been together. They've all spent time together but no one has talked about it. Each of their relationships with another has been unquestioned. It is an unspoken rule though Traynor isn't sure how necessary it is.

Shepard and Liara clearly love one another—no matter how they may butt heads. How they feel about her is unknown—but she does know that they care for her. That is enough. "Anyway, I should…probably get going. You two need some time," she begins to pull away, "and I…" Liara doesn't release her hand. She kisses her briefly. Traynor can't help but blush. They all know what they've been doing—but having every party present flusters her.

The tears have dried on Liara's cheeks though Traynor can still taste them on her lips. She cups Liara's face. "Feel better." Her eyes land on Shepard but she drops them quickly. She isn't sure why—she isn't sure if she's overstepping bounds, afraid of letting Shepard see how much Liara means to her, afraid of letting Shepard see how much  _she_  means to her. "You too, Commander."

"What's this?" Shepard says. "I don't get a kiss?"

If her face was warm before, it's on fire now. Is Shepard using calculated arrogance to overcome the dismal situation? Traynor can't blame her. Traynor looks nervously at Liara and tries to pull away again. Liara's hand comes to the small of her back, grounding her. "It's all right, Samantha."

Traynor looks at her. Liara looks tired but comfortable against Shepard. Shepard's look is challenging, almost mocking but there's something more hidden beneath the surface, something that makes Traynor's heart race. "I really have a lot of work to do," she says knowing full well that Liara and Shepard have just as much if not more. Shepard's hand hooks into the waist of her fatigue pants to draw her close. Traynor takes a breath without realizing, as if preparing for a dive underwater.

Their lips touch. Then there are two sets of hands moving over her. Lips pressed to hers, lips pressed to her neck.

* * *

It's the middle of the night. Liara doesn't know how long she's been typing in little more than a slip when she hears Traynor's soft groan. Liara finishes the few lines she's typing, requisitioning the supplies to be delivered to the more stable regions of Thessia before she straightens.

Traynor has been asleep for several hours now. Liara is emotionally exhausted and her body hurts from the battle in Thessia. It's only now that she realizes it, after the numbness has been pushed away. Shepard left earlier, awakening before any of them. Liara wonders if she slept at all. She'd given her a brief, barely there kiss and wordlessly left. Liara's been working energetically on getting aid to Thessia since then.

Now Traynor's awake. Liara thinks of her earlier, of Shepard and Traynor and herself, together. It is not the sort of comfort she has ever taken nor can she recall a time when her heart had pounded so loudly. It was strange and exciting to see them together, to have Shepard and Traynor watch her with the other, for all of them to touch and kiss and stroke in unison and individually, to focus their attentions on one exclusively. She's surprised Traynor didn't faint. Even Shepard, normally unflappable in the face of anything unrelated to emotion appeared nervous. Perhaps there was more to be felt than any of them presumed.

Funny how these things just happen. Liara joins Traynor in bed; she looks around in a daze and rubs her eyes tenderly. "I just had…the most peculiar dream." There's a pause. "Was it a dream?"

Liara smiles tiredly. "No." Traynor's lips part, she sits up, keeping the blanket draped over her. She wonders if Traynor is feeling more modest than usual. "Are you all right? Do you need to talk about it?"

Traynor gives a mild shake of her head. "All things considered—I suppose stranger things have happened. Perhaps not to me—"

"Or me," Liara takes her hand.

Traynor scrunches her eyebrows. "How are you? You were so shook up earlier. I was so worried. I hate Kai Leng. I hate everything that's happened." She sighs. "I wish you didn't have to suffer like this."

"I'm not the only one."

They kiss softly. Traynor ducks her chin thoughtfully but Liara kisses her again, perhaps to reassure her or to reassure herself. Liara is aware of humans' priggish sensibilities regarding sex and pleasure. But it was more than that. She wonders if Traynor knows or if now is the time to talk about it. "I know that there are…far more important things happening but you're important to me, too."

"Now I'm 'important'. I thought you loved me. Have you changed your mind?"

Traynor laughs bashfully. "Oh, you remember that, do you?"

"You have a high opinion of me. It's rare that I get confessions of love." In fact, Traynor's has been the first she's received. She knows what Traynor said about Shepard—but Shepard has never said the words herself. Is it true…? "So…I'm bound to remember. Especially if they come from certain comm specialists."

Traynor bows her face and smiles. "Are things all right between us? Everything keeps…getting away from me." Traynor says. Her eyes close when Liara brushes her hair. "I didn't plan any of this. I don't want anything to change."

"Love changes a few things." Liara meets Traynor's eyes when she opens them. "But we still have a lot to do. I've been finding some ways to help Thessia. It isn't much but… it's something. I have to do something, anything." She sighs. Traynor grazes her lips over her forehead. "We're so close to the end."

"Yeah."

"Remember when you said you couldn't find love in the middle of war?"

"I vaguely recall that," her cheeks darken again.

"You weren't the only one to find it. I couldn't think of a better way to prove you wrong."

"I didn't know you were intent on proving me wrong."

"You have a bit of a smart mouth. Someone should put you in your place," she smiles and returns Traynor's kiss, happy to see some of the nervous tension begin to leave her and see her return more to her usual self. Times like these make Traynor's optimism and curiosity a rare quality. Traynor pulls her down beside her. Liara rests her head on her shoulder. "Thank you for today. And all the other days and nights." Traynor looks at her. "I knew this would be difficult. But I had no idea…" she sighs. "And I'm so tired…" she stifles a yawn.

"You need to rest. No, complaints." She brings a finger to her lips. "Today has been…unimaginable. I have some data that needs to be looked at… No one is just gone. You may be a very good information broker—but I'm an excellent comm specialist. If Kai Leng or the Illusive Man have made any communication, no matter how scrambled—I may be able to pinpoint it and track them down." Once again Liara tries to protest. "You and Shepard have done your part—let me do mine."

"All right…" She hoped Traynor would stay longer, keep her company, hold her until she went to sleep. How foolish. How selfish! There's no time for that kind of romance—no matter where love may flourish. "Do what you can. We're counting on you, Samantha."

"No pressure, or anything."

"I thought you liked pressure." She smiles faintly, Traynor's own sad smile reflecting how they're both trying so desperately to forget the tragedy that is Thessia. Traynor kisses her cheek, dresses and returns to work. Liara lies in bed restlessly for near an hour before she stands and does the same.

* * *

_Good. You opened this message. This isn't actually asari military command. They're busy tending to what's left of their planet._

_So you survived our fight on Thessia. You're not as weak as I thought. But never forget that your best wasn't good enough to stop me. Now an entire planet is dying because you lacked the strength to win. The legend of Shepard needs to be re-written. I hope I'm there for the last chapter. It ends with your death._

_-KL_

Shepard sits in her desk chair and re-reads the message until it's memorized. The cabin is cold but she's sweating. When the cabin door opens she hurriedly closes the message. Kai Leng. The bastard. The next time she sees him she'll rip the bastard apart.

"Shepard?" It's Liara. Shepard turns her face in the direction of Liara's voice. Liara joins their lips near immediately. Shepard is happy for her. But is it her fault that Thessia fell…? Is Kai Leng right? If she'd been stronger… Liara pulls away. "Is something wrong?"

"Everything?" Shepard smiles wryly before turning to the blank monitor. Liara massages her shoulders. Shepard sighs, head falling forward. "That's nice. Didn't know we were scheduled for a visit."

"I didn't know I had to make appointments," her fingers continue to knead her shoulders. "You're tense. Hopefully I can help alleviate that."

"Oh?" She grins.

Liara laughs softly. "That isn't what I meant. I have some good news."

"Anything helps right now." Shepard lifts her head and takes Liara's hand, pausing her movement. She pushes back from the desk in the chair and pulls Liara into her lap. Liara smiles. Shepard returns it. For so long all Liara had for her was cold glares. When she didn't have glares she had nothing. It became harder to ignore. "It's good to see you," she says softly.

"You say it as if we haven't seen each other in ages." Liara touches Shepard's face. "I suppose in some ways, you would be right." Shepard wraps her arms around her waist, pulling her closer and they kiss again. Liara makes her wish that they could stop and have normal things like other people. Liara breaks the kiss but keeps her face close. "Mh. Keep that up and I'll forget why I came here to begin with."

"That wouldn't be so bad," Shepard says, "I promise you a good time."

Liara laughs. "I have no doubt of that." She kisses her again. "I've been looking at our allied forces. For someone who lacks the finesse of the asari and diplomacy," she traces Shepard's smirk, "you've done a good job building a strong military force. There are many who doubted that you could pull the galaxy together but you have. I don't think anyone else could have. Shepard… I think we have a good shot at winning this."

"I haven't gotten everything right."

"Not everything. But a lot. More than enough."

"Now, that  _is_  good news." It makes her feel better. It makes some of the tension leave her shoulders. Liara squeals as Shepard stands, scooping her up in her arms in the process. Liara circles her arms around Shepard's neck and kisses her. She pulls Shepard atop of her when her back touches the mattress and doesn't relinquish her mouth.

Shepard begins to believe that they can do this. They can win.

* * *

Horizon was a travesty. Every time she thinks the Illusive Man and Cerberus have gone as far as they're willing to go, they move further into the realm of atrocities. Using war refugees to fuel their experiments, turning them into mindless husks. The Illusive Man is going to pay. At least Henry Lawson is no longer breathing.

Kai Leng is still loose. The Reapers are still winning the war. This isn't over yet but they're running out of time. She bounces the rubber wall off the fish tank trying to shake any unease she feels. Sanctuary won't sucker any more refugees into coming to Horizon, to slaughter them for indoctrination. The experiments are over. For now.

Shepard bounces the ball several more times, stopping herself from throwing it again when Traynor walks in. She salutes. Shepard allows a small, unintentional smile. "At ease."

"I'd worry for the fish in the fishtank—if you kept any fish."

"What's the use when my new secretary won't feed them? I don't have time for that crap." She smiles more at Traynor's frown. "Good work. Gotta say, I'm more used to using muscle and guns, biotics to take care of business. If you hadn't been stranded on the Normandy—" she pauses. She'd been thinking aloud with no particular point to make. "We'd have been screwed." If not for Traynor what would have happened at Grissom academy? What about the pockets of survivors throughout the galaxy that have joined them in the resistance against the Reapers? Jacob, Jack, finding Sanctuary, having a chance now to recover whatever the key to the Catalyst is…

"But…I might not have been." Traynor says with a small, bashful grin. She makes the joke but she blushes. Shepard laughs. She yanks her close with biotics before dispensing the rubber ball errantly to the side. It bounces around a few times before rolling away somewhere. "You know I'm not used to you doing that."

"No? I can't be the only biotic you know." Even if she hadn't always been one. She thinks to Cerberus and Miranda, Project Lazarus and her reconstruction.

"The other one I'm close with is ah…" She slows, Shepard's thumb grazing her lower lip, "better behaved." Shepard presses her back to the fish tank. "We could put in an order for fish, you know. You'd still have to feed them, though. How else are you going to learn to take some responsibility?"

Shepard smirks. The specialist is constantly riding her ass. At least she's come a long way from the shy, bumbling thing she used to become around her. She wonders if she coincidentally picks lovers that evolve or if there's something about her very nature that prompts a survivalist mentality in them, fight back or be beaten down. "How are you doing? Earlier I thought you might be ready to steal the helm from Joker and crash it into where ever the Illusive Man might be hiding."

"Oh, I couldn't do that. I don't know how to steer this thing." She smiles, shifting her eyes. Shepard touches her face until she looks back at her. "I meant what I said. I am sick of Cerberus treating lives as if they're expendable. And hitting Horizon. First the Collectors, now Cerberus. For all their talk of being humanity's greatest hope all they do is make people suffer. They're despicable. Whatever they may have been before, whatever they  _were_  when they brought you back—that isn't them anymore. I want them to pay for what they've done. They shouldn't be allowed to get away with it. With so much going on we don't need more enemies. I want them  _gone_."

Shepard takes Traynor's hand, balled at her side and wraps her fingers around it. "We're going to take them out. I promise. Believe me, I've got a score or two to settle with them." Still Traynor breathes arduously. Her eyes glisten, no doubt from angry tears. "Talk to me."

"I'm not used to being this angry. I don't know what to do with it. I feel so helpless."

"You're not. Remember, when we track Kai Leng down he'll lead us straight to the Illusive Man and their base. That first nail in their coffin is going to be all you. We all fight wars. You just do it differently than I do. Understood?"

"Yeah," she says shakily. "I don't know if I could ever return to Horizon now after all that's happened. I don't know if there will be a Horizon left." She sighs. "Where will we go when we stop running? When the fighting's done? Is there any place that will be habitable? Liara says the Reapers waged war against the Protheans for over a hundred years. I hate to think I'll be old and weathered and still living with the threat of Reapers over my head."

"That won't happen. We find Kai Leng and the Illusive Man, we get the key to the Catalyst and we end this once and for all. Samantha, look at me." Shepard says when Traynor begins to nod absently. Traynor looks at her. "We're going to do this. We're almost there. But you're going to have to trust me for a little longer. Can you do that?"

"I don't think I have any other choice," she says with a soft laugh. She straightens her back against the fish tank. "but… of course I trust you, Commander. I haven't left yet, have I? And… you're enough of a bad ass that I'm pretty sure I'd follow you to hell and back… if you had a plan that was just crazy enough to work."

Shepard smiles. She kisses her. Traynor's fist loosens and then their fingers are twined. Shepard pins her wrist carefully to the side, up against the cold glass as their kisses become more precarious, gentler. She isn't sure who changed the tempo or if they both just happened to at the same time. It isn't bad but it isn't how they've ever been. Shepard kisses her harder and Traynor follows suit but not long after their fiery kisses give way to something deep and languid again. Maybe they're tired.

Shepard draws back, running her tongue over her lower lip. "Something wrong?" Traynor asks. Shepard shakes her head. She takes a seat on the end of her bed. Traynor joins her. "I've never known you to not be in the mood. Aaaand, I could have sworn that you just were. Don't tell me you have a headache." Shepard does have a headache. She's had one for a long time now that she thinks of it. Traynor bumps her shoulder gently. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Shepard says softly. Nothing but the terror that is coursing through her. She doesn't know it, doesn't understand it. Things are finally looking up for them. The war on the Reapers, on Earth, the galaxy may soon be over but she's unsettled.

"I don't believe you."

"I don't care whether you believe me."

"That's probably true," she laughs haltingly. Shepard looks at her. "Is it…what happened? Before? With. Erm. You know…"

The blush on her cheeks is enough to fill in the 'you know'. Shepard thinks back to what had happened. How the hell had it happened? It worked. It was fun. They all needed a break. They all needed to relieve some stress. They needed a distraction. What better than a fuck? But Shepard knows what fucking is and when it's something else, something more. Liara and Traynor are much more than just sex. Maybe she had felt some jealousy but not enough to let it take away any satisfaction. She'd liked watching them together, joining them, having them on her, touching and kissing and sucking and whispering. So what gives? It hits her. She's left cold.

Traynor looks at her expectantly but not saying anything. "Silent treatment it is." Eventually she finds the rubber ball that rolled away earlier. She picks it up and bounces it lightly off the fish tank. "I see why you do this. It is fun." Shepard listens to the ball bounce several times before pulling it to her. Traynor pouts. "I thought you didn't mind sharing."

Another small smile pulls at her lips. "I don't." She sets the ball aside. "Samantha… I've let things become unprofessional between us." She wipes at her face. "Hell. How did this happen?"

Traynor walks closer, cautiously. She brings a hand up to her lips and whispers in Shepard's ear. "Probably when we started sleeping together." She pulls back and looks at her quizzically. "Didn't you know we were having sex? Now you've made me feel as if I've taken advantage of a poor Spectre. I feel awful." Her grin is nothing short of mischievous.

"Samantha, I'm serious."

"I can be serious, too." She reaches for the ball but Shepard takes it. Once again she pouts. Strange to think that this woman has saved their asses more times than Shepard cares to count. " _If_ I knew what you were talking about." She looks at her. Shepard says nothing. Traynor takes a breath. "I'll bite. And again later, if you tell me where you like—but what do you mean, things have become unprofessional? Since when do you give a damn about professional?"

"I'm not a very good example, am I?"

Traynor smiles. She straddles her. Shepard situates herself so she doesn't fall back. She settles her hands on Traynor's hips. Traynor traces her face with her fingertip. "I don't know that I'd fancy you as much as I do if you weren't the big, bad wolf." Shepard laughs again. She can't think of anyone else who makes her laugh as often. "By the way, I'm really glad you didn't kill Joker after Thessia." Shepard frowns. "EDI told me all about it. If I'd heard what he said I might have tried to take a swing at him myself."

"I did. For the record, slamming your fist into EDI when she's acting as a shield—not advisable." Her fist hurts at the memory. "I was mad." She sulks.

"Yeah. Who knew that you had a temper?" She presses a kiss to her forehead and another to her lips. It isn't long before they're kissing the way that they were before. They don't rip each other's clothes away. They undress, their lips not leaving each other's for more than moments at a time.

Unprofessional. Unprofessional. She'd failed to uphold her part of the bargain. Shepard feels elation and mounting terror, sadness ascending. This will be the last time. She has to separate herself from this. She can't have her on her mind at the end. Traynor's gotten too close and Shepard failed to keep her at a proper distance. She loves Samantha. How can she? Shouldn't she know better? Hadn't she told Traynor to keep her feelings in check only to fail herself?

What does Samantha feel for her? Maybe she's too professional to tell her. Maybe she's upholding her end of the bargain. Shepard could ask. Shepard could tell her. But she doesn't. She kisses her and takes care to remember her kiss and her breath, the pressure of her fingers along her back, her voice.

* * *

Kai Leng is dead but Shepard is unsettled. Cronos has raised doubts that Liara hoped would be long buried by now. Shepard won't talk about it—she never wants to talk about it. Liara can see her retreating by the moment, away from her and Traynor and everything else. She's afraid Shepard will withdraw again.

All she can do is worry and work but even the constant monitoring and research isn't enough to calm her fears. Traynor has helped her find and track the little communication happening on Thessia. It is a more technical process than Liara initially imagined. It is one thing to listen in on feeds and another to unscramble and clean up antiquated modes of communication that Thessia, like Earth, has resorted to.

She's been up for a few hours now and still can't wake up. It's early morning. Liara preps a cup of coffee, fighting with the machine. What if she needs a new one…? It would be difficult to replace it when the galaxy is on the verge of extinction. "Goddess," she says. What would she be without coffee…?

Shepard walks in. "You called?"

Liara peeks her head around the corner, spotting her by the entrance. "Shepard, I'm glad you're here." She continues to fidget with the coffee maker. The contraption has been working perfectly well during the duration of their mission. Perhaps some power failure has caused it to malfunction—or the many hits that the ship has taken. "I have tried everything and can't fix it." She looks at the coffeemaker, dismayed.

"The Shadow Broker, defeated by a coffee machine." Shepard smiles. "How have you survived this long?"

"As long as you're going to stand there and gloat, why not fix it?" She sits on the bed and watches Shepard duck to better look at the machine. She turns it off and on and then waits. "You're up early."

"It's easy when you don't sleep." Shepard curls her fist and gives the coffee maker two solid hits to the top. It makes a cracking noise. Liara grimaces and Shepard takes a seat next to her. She had been attached to that coffee maker. "You don't need coffee when you've got adrenaline."

"Do you have any adrenaline handy? I'm not awake enough to face whatever might demand it." She stifles a small yawn. "I wasn't expecting you." But she is happy to see her. Shepard has been no more or less present than usual. Shepard has given herself over to her a handful of times since they reconnected. She isn't as surly as is in her nature to be but Liara has not missed the way she has kept their conversations free of any significance. "Should you be up this early?"

"If it were up to me I wouldn't sleep at all. Could get a hell of a lot more done that way." Shepard says. She rubs her eyes and sighs, resting an elbow on her leg. Liara wonders if she's slept at all. She looks tired, run down.

Liara slips an arm around her waist, resting her head on her shoulder. She isn't sure which one of them sighs tiredly. "Have you been having nightmares?" The tensing of Shepard's body is answer enough. Waiting for several more silent minutes doesn't bring any answers. She moves on. "What's the plan for today?"

"Clean up any loose ends. Play the diplomat for all the right people. Make sure that everyone knows where they have to be. Get everything into its proper place. When we hit Earth—we're going to have to be ready. There won't be any second chances. We can't make any mistakes. We've made too many as it is. It ends now."

"We're so close. How do you think it will go?"

"What do you expect me to say to that?"

"I expect you to say the truth."

"I can't tell you what will happen. We're as prepared as we're going to be. We can't do more than we already have. But we're going to lose a lot of people. No different than any other day." She rubs at her face again. "I hope to hell we win. But I can't make any guarantees."

Liara rubs Shepard's leg gently. It hurts her to see Shepard so stressed. She has never seen her this way. She's always been confident and sure but maybe some situations are too dire. So much is riding on her and maybe at last she's feeling it. Shepard has never been one to kiss ass, to show undeserved mercy—and some of those decisions have cost them. Shepard no doubt knows it. Liara wishes she could help her the way that Shepard has helped her in the past. "I believe in you. We all do." Shepard has lowered her head. Liara brings her fingers to the back of her neck, massaging softly. Shepard exhales slowly. "You're going to do this. And we're all going to help you."

The tension comes back to her in full force, Shepard's limbs harden and go rigid. She sits up and looks at her. The red in her eyes looks to be fading some. It helps Liara see the distance that's entering them. "I'm going to get going."

"So soon?" Liara's disappointed. "It's only been… Shepard," she goes for it, "don't you want to talk about Cronos?" She had seen how shaken she was by the Cerberus footage, the questions she has about her identity, about who or what she is.

"No. What's done is done. No use dwelling on it."

"Okay…" Liara shuffles in place. "In any case… I want to tell you that you are the same Shepard I have always known. I know I've said it before but… it can't hurt to tell you again." She smiles nervously. Shepard still hasn't allowed her to meld with her, leaving them purely in the realm of the physical. It leaves Liara feeling incomplete and unsatisfied

"Yeah." Shepard says. Liara isn't sure that she's convinced and given her doubts, Liara is unsure her speech is enough to change any feelings. "I know you're only trying to help. Thanks." There's a beat. "What do you think all that business about indoctrination was? Seems like every Cerberus facility we hit…" So it has been bothering her. She knew it. She's formulating a response when Shepard shakes her head. "All of us know that it won't be long until we bring the war back to Earth. We know how little time we have left. I only came by because… I wanted to see you." Liara takes a step towards her. They kiss too briefly, Shepard with a desperate ardor that cools and then dies, as if she'd simply turned a switch off. Shepard separates from her, cocks her head to the coffee maker that has started suddenly, splashing coffee over the table. "Looks like we both have messes to clean up."

Liara hurries to the coffee maker, trying to clean up the mess or turn off the machine. She isn't able to until she unplugs it. When she glances back, Shepard is gone.

* * *

Hours before the call comes Shepard turns them both away. She sleeps restlessly. She dreams of a boy and all the ones she couldn't save: Ashley. Mordin. Thane. Eve. Legion. How many more will she lose?

She thinks of Liara. She thinks of Traynor. Then she wipes them both from her mind. She is ambivalent: should she make her heart cold or fire? Should she focus on the destruction of the Reapers or saving lives?

Destroying the Reapers  _is_  the only way to save lives. She closes her eyes and takes several breaths, feeling unbearably alone. She hardens herself and tells herself she's indestructible.

* * *

Traynor looks as if she's going to cry. Liara is glad that she'll be safe, safer aboard the Normandy than on Earth in the midst of violent war. Liara wonders if she'll see her again.

So much could go wrong. She could fall in battle. Shepard could. Her heart clenches at the thought. A reaper beam could annihilate them. Or perhaps the Catalyst might not work. Or it could be destroyed before they can use it. It's easy to get lost in the distressing thoughts.

Liara focuses on Traynor. They kiss and make frantic, passionate love, unlike their previous gentler unions. They meld, their sadness of Shepard's distance felt, their desire, both of theirs, to meld with Shepard, revealed. Their feelings for one another are more intoxicating, thrilling still.

"Tell me you'll come back," Traynor says.

Liara presses to her back. She kisses the base of her neck. "I'll do my best," she murmurs.

* * *

Shepard diligently holds her arms out to the side as Traynor straps her into her armor. Shepard remembers when Traynor had trouble with it, when she didn't know how to latch and better yet, unlatch it.

Shepard tries to keep her breath steady even as Traynor's fingers tremble, fumble. Shepard doesn't let Traynor know that she sees it, happy only with the knowledge that Traynor has come so far in the time that they've spent together. Traynor runs her fingertips over the armor when she's finished. The armor gleams dully despite the beatings it has taken.

Shepard looks it over and then at Traynor. She smiles. "Good work." This could be, for all she knows, the last time she ever sees Communications Specialist Samantha Traynor. It makes her sad before the anger comes. She won't let the goddamn Reapers take everything. "Now get back to CIC."

Traynor straightens and salutes. "It was an honor, Commander."

"Likewise, Specialist." Shepard takes Traynor's wrist and lowers it. They stare at each other. "We're going to take Earth back. No more running. After all of this is over—you'll have a home. No more Reapers. That's a promise."

Traynor's lower lip trembles. She throws her arms around Shepard, holds her tightly. "Why couldn't I have kept things as professional as I said I would? Like you could." Shepard exhales shakily, a hand coming to Traynor's hair. "I love you." She pulls away from her. "Now go kick some Reaper ass."

Traynor exits the cabin. Shepard bows her face, a faint smile tugging on her lips. She gives herself a moment before moving. The fleets are gathering. It's time to join Joker on the bridge.

* * *

Shepard wanted an exceptional biotic. She wanted an exceptional soldier. She takes Kaidan and Garrus on the first assault. London is devastated. The size of the Reapers is…staggering. The damage the Destroyers have unleashed on their forces is…

Liara wonders if the war can be won. Is it all up to the Catalyst now? Have they been fools? How different it is to face Cerberus soldiers or the races that have been indoctrinated. They have always left other planets when the Reapers have arrived. To rush towards them as they cannibalize a planet and its people…

Liara's in the Forward Operating Base, attending to the wounded. There are many but not as many as she has expected. She supposes she would have heard if something had happened to…

Shepard's voice startles her out of all thoughts. She had not known such happiness was possible. Liara goes to her wordlessly and embraces her before pulling away. Shepard's face is half-covered in blood, the majority of the blood seems to come from a wound on her temple. Liara takes her face, studies it and determines that it looks worse than it is. "Shepard…thank the Goddess. I was so worried." Not only that, she was angry, is angry still. Shepard chose not to take her with her on the first assault. Liara isn't sure whether she should think of it as special treatment, a criticism of her skills in battle or if Shepard was only protecting her in the best way she knew. "You could have taken me."

"No. You're needed here."

Liara sighs. "Do you ever consider not being stubborn?" Shepard shakes her head, a small mocking smile on her lips. Liara takes her hands. "I know that you're going to tell me that we don't even have a minute to spare. And maybe that's true. I was so worried thinking about you that… I didn't prepare… something right for you."

"Something right?"

"Special. To say." She bites her lip and lowers her head. "We never have enough time together. Something bigger always comes to stand in the way."

"Can't imagine anything much bigger than a Reaper. And once we clear these bastards out… who knows?" She shrugs. Liara takes her hands. Shepard looks down at them. "End of the line. Took long enough, didn't it?"

"It came too soon." Liara says. Shepard takes a moment before nodding. "For asari… bonding with humans is always… difficult. Other asari will joke that they can wait out relationships and simply wait for their human lover to die."

"Was that a vote of confidence?"

"No! I mean—" she balks. "I have faith in you, Shepard. I only meant… I'm still young enough to be…distressed by all of this." She laughs and feels her eyes sting. "If this is goodbye…I hate for it to be here. London is in ruins. The Reapers are decimating us."

"We're doing all right."

"Yes, you're right." She sighs. "Shepard…" she steps closer to her. "I know you turned me away…but I'm not angry. And I have enough time… to wait for you. To wait until you're ready. To wait until you win this war." Liara touches her face. "Let me give you a gift."

"A gift?"

"Yes. My memories… of us. Of my affection," her fingertips brush Shepard's face. "A moment's peace in this chaos and darkness. A moment's rest." Shepard inhales softly. "I'll have to join our minds to do it."

Shepard deliberates. Then she meets Liara's eyes. "Show me."

Liara is surprised. But time is fleeting. Liara joins their minds. She wades through the uncertainty, through all that is fragmented, through every broken piece of Shepard's regret, to everything that marks her so clearly as human.

Liara shows her the threads of their time together, weaving a tapestry of memories, of love. She shows her the stars.

They kiss in the cosmos.

And then it's over and they've returned to London. Liara talks through the lump in her throat. "Thank you. For everything."

* * *

Harbinger looms in the night. Shepard's ears ring from the battle. All that's left is to make a run for it. Life can continue then. She won't have to hold back anymore. All she has to do is reach the conduit.

She takes the first step.


End file.
